The Darkness Within Me
by hoshiko2kokoro
Summary: People's fears can affect a country and change them. Being a nation, they have to follow their people's demands. But what if they no longer want to? What comes from that?
1. Chapter 1

_How one is born is irrelevant, but it's what one does with one's birth that makes all the difference._

_ I remember someone once told me that, but I can't quite remember who. Such things are difficult to recall whilst trying to outrun soldiers._

_ As far as I could remember, though, I hadn't done anything wrong. I was born into this world and I was already in trouble. Such a thing for a newborn is confusing as one can imagine. However, I barely had a grasp of my own existence before I was attacked. I was stumbling around in the dark forest hoping to stay alive to even garner a name._

_ The bushes nearby startled me. I stifled my gasp, preparing to flee, when a man shot up from the ground, a bayonet in his hand. I had started to stumble back away from this stranger when gunshots rang in the distance behind me. I snapped my head back and forth between the two decisive deaths._

_ "Get behind me!" the man shouted._

_ I looked to him confused, but said nothing. He returned fire at the men chasing me. That was enough proof that he would protect me. I raced behind the man, only momentarily glancing at him. He had blonde hair, that's all I could see in the darkness._

_ I was against staying any longer than need be, especially since the hostile soldiers were firing in my general direction. I headed off into the night, not looking back._

_

* * *

_

It was only a quarter past four when Arthur was interrupted from his reading by a knocking on his front door. He was enjoying the peace and quiet he was steadily losing in the past few months and so, when he was bothered he found his mood growing quite sour. Still, he put down his book and answered the door.

He was startled at seeing a taller, but younger blonde man standing on his doorstep. "Alfred?"

"Hey!" said man replied cheerfully holding up a hand, the other in the pocket of his bomber jacket. Arthur noted that it was a jacket he hadn't seen in awhile and it was only worn when Alfred was upset or stressed.

Alfred stepped into the entryway, forcing Arthur to move aside. "What're you doing here?" Arthur asked, closing the door. He was used to this type of behavior from the young man. "Do you have a meeting in London I didn't hear about?"

"Nope, just thought I'd visit," Alfred replied simply. "You busy?"

Arthur glanced at his book, but realized it was a lost cause. Even if he was busy, Alfred was in the mood to rant. Something must be really bothering him. When he was normally upset he went to his younger brother, Matthew, or to his best friend, Kiku. Just talking to either one of them was enough to quell his uneasiness, but when he went to Arthur, that's when it was something very troubling.

With a sigh, Arthur shook his head. "I suppose not. What's on your mind? Care for some tea?"

Alfred grimaced. "No thanks. And what makes you think something's on my mind? Can't I just come over for a visit and chat with you normally?"

"No," Arthur said all too casually. He slid into the kitchen and started making tea despite Alfred's refusal. He could do with a nice cup. "We hardly just 'chat', Alfred. It's rare to see you come over and actually want to spend time with me."

"Why is that?" Alfred asked, plopping down in a chair at the small breakfast table. He propped his head up by his hands, a thoughtful expression on his face.

"Because we're busy, especially you." Arthur set the full tea pot on the stove, turning it on. "Your economy hasn't improved any I see. And I've been reading some distressing matters. Is it true that about seventy percent of your people are unhappy with your government?"

Alfred was watching Arthur, but didn't seem to be listening to him at all. His eyes were following his every movement. When Arthur turned around, Alfred blinked back into reality.

"Sorry?"

"Will you please pay attention?" Arthur sighed.

Alfred pouted, his arms falling flat on the table and his head lying on them. "I don't want to talk about that! That's sad!"

"Well, what did you come here to talk about then?" Arthur crossed his arms. He stared at the man sitting at his table in anticipation. He was actually mildly curious as to why Alfred really had come to pay him a visit.

It was silent for a few minutes with only the sound of the stove murmuring in the background to disturb the two. Arthur patiently waited for Alfred, but the blonde looked as if he were lost in a daze. The sun reflected off of his glasses as he stared at nothing in particular on the floor.

Perhaps he's just tired, Arthur thought. "Alfred?"

Alfred's blue eyes looked up Arthur tiredly. "What would you do if I died?"

The tea pot blew out the steam causing Arthur to jump in surprise. He turned away while chuckling. "That's a ridiculous notion and utterly impossible. Why would you ask such a thing?"

"I asked you a question first and that's totally not an answer," Alfred said. "Seriously, what would you do?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing?" Alfred saddened. "Why?"

Arthur's back was still turned to Alfred as he pulled down a tea cup and pulled the pot off of the stove. "Because, it won't happen."

"Why?"

"You're a superpower and far too young to have such a thing happen to you."

"Why?"

Arthur slammed down the tea pot. "Come off it, Alfred! Are you a child again?"

"I'm just asking you a simple question. You're the one making it all difficult. Why can't you just say you'll be sad?" Alfred asked simply.

Arthur's hand slipped as he poured the water and he burned himself. He hissed in pain, pulling his finger to his mouth instinctively. He turned around angrily. "I'm through with your silly little game. You didn't want to talk about something sad, so then why are you asking such a question?"

For a moment it was as if Alfred hadn't heard Arthur again. The Englishman wondered briefly if the man was losing his hearing or was developing ADD. Then again, he'd always thought Alfred's attention was far too short compared to the rest of the nations. He retrieved his tea cup and readied his tea.

Alfred's eyes flickered to Arthur suddenly. "Because I'm dying."

Normally such a declaration would create the room to spin and all noise to cease, but in the case of a nation saying this, Arthur was unfazed. He waited for a few moments, his hand holding the tea bag bobbing up and down in the tea cup as he waited.

"Oh, so this isn't a joke?" he asked, his thick eyebrows rose. "I was waiting for you to tell me I was being Punk'd or something."

"It's not a joke, Arthur. I'm really dying." Alfred sat up in his seat.

Arthur scoffed. "Honestly. Where's the proof in this?"

The chair's legs scratched against the marble kitchen floor as Alfred stood up. "You said so yourself, seventy percent of my people are against my government."

"That doesn't mean you die." Arthur was growing tired of this conversation quickly; his tone starting to reflect that. "People go through changes like that, not that you understand as you've only had _one_ revolution in the course of your life, but it happens. I doubt you'll die from such a thing. Has the entire core of your culture changed or have people stopped being proud to be an American? Once that happens, then I'd be concerned."

"Arthur…"

"No more of this," Arthur interrupted. "I'm done. Now if you're not here to talk to me about something _meaningful_ then I'll have to ask you to leave."

The two men's eyes met and Alfred knew it was futile. He turned away from Arthur's green eyes and headed to the door. Without another word he was out the door, leaving a stunned Arthur in the kitchen.

That's peculiar behavior for Alfred, Arthur thought. He shrugged and was grateful that he could return to his reading, though. He thought nothing more of what Alfred had said.

Again, the blessed peace didn't last. Before long, there was a strange knocking on the wall near where Arthur was sitting. Ignoring it didn't work and checking around in the house for a rodent brought up no luck of discovering the source of the sound. Before long, Arthur's patience had run out.

He flung open the door, ready to go under the house if need be to grab a pesky animal, but stopped when he saw a pair of legs sticking out from the bushes adorning his front porch. He looked to see who it was and nearly toppled over himself, scrambling to help.

"Alfred? What happened?" Arthur exclaimed. He hauled the American into his arms and started to hoist him up off of the ground. "Can you walk? Come on, help me out. You're heavy."

The man grunted a reply as he struggled to move his limp legs. The two managed to stumble back inside the house, Arthur groaning under Alfred's larger body weight, until they were in Arthur's living room. There, the lifeless man was able to crash onto the couch.

Arthur stood back, rolling his shoulders and sighing in relief. "What…what happened? Why are you so tired suddenly? And how long were you out there?"

"One…question…at a time…," Alfred panted. The color from his face was completely gone, beads of sweat sticking to his face while much more had collected in spots on his shirt turning his blue shirt into a darker shade.

"Alfred…," Arthur started after he saw the change in Alfred's appearance. It was so sudden he was caught quite off guard. "What happened to you…?"

"I told you…" Alfred opened one blue eye to look at Arthur; his glasses were askew on his face. "I'm dying…"

Arthur stepped away in disbelief. Countries have gotten horribly ill and fully bed ridden before, he could personally attest to this, but he had only seen Alfred this sick one time. It was true that the world's economy was doing poorly and there was much unrest in the States, but was it enough to bring Alfred down?

"You must be just horribly ill. You're too far from home." Arthur composed himself, a familiar lecturing expression returning. "I'll call for you to fly home."

"No!" Alfred shot up and managed to grab Arthur's elbow as he turned away. However, it came at a cost. He fell forward, his knees slamming into the hardwood floor, and he leaned against Arthur's hip. "No… I don't…want to go home."

"Don't be so stupid." Arthur weakly tried to shrug Alfred off of his hand. He made no more tries when Alfred wouldn't let go. "You have to go home. Look at you, you're a bloody mess."

The younger man shook his head violently. He held back any signs that such a motion made him quite nauseous. "I don't want…to be…away from you…"

Arthur sighed. "Oh, bollocks. Alfred, if you know you're unwell then why would you want to stay here?"

Alfred tightened his grip, unable to even lift his head to look up. "Because… if I'm dying… I want to at least…be with someone I care about…"

Fighting back any traces of even the slightest bit of blush, Arthur huffed his disapproval. "You could be with Matthew or Kiku for that. Matthew is your brother and Kiku is your self-proclaimed best friend, right?"

"But I'm not there now am I?"

Long ago, the sun had started to set, but it chose at that moment to slide fully behind the hills. The room was cast into darkness. Arthur used this opportunity to slip away and turn on the lights. He glanced over to see Alfred slip back up onto the couch.

"Alfred," Arthur started, returning near the man's side. "You are not dying, but you are very sick. I suggest that you go home as soon as possible."

For a moment, Arthur wasn't sure if Alfred had fallen asleep or not judging by his slow and shallow breaths. Such a thought was erased when Alfred's hand shot out, grabbing Arthur's wrist. He pulled him into a tight embrace as his breathing became more labored; almost as if the very action had taken the last of his energy from him.

"I'm staying…at least the night…," Alfred mumbled. His chin was poking Arthur in the shoulder. Despite his struggle, he was holding Arthur in an iron lock grip, the smaller man finding it impossible to break free. "I have…that much."

"Like hell you do!" Arthur protested. He continued to struggle, his legs kicking out. He winced when his kneecap banged into the floor. "I haven't given you permission to stay!"

Alfred tightened his grip, effectively stopping Arthur's ministrations. "In the morning…they'll come for me… I can stay here, though… Please…Arthur…"

Something in his voice made Arthur's heart clench. It had been so long since he had taken pity on the blonde that he was momentarily surprised by the familiar action. However, it settled back into the pit of his stomach where it always would retreat to after Arthur scolded himself for having affections, especially for _this_ man.

Arthur forced his throat to be quiet as he gulped. "All right… You may stay."

Instantly, Alfred released his hold. Arthur stumbled back, straightening his tie and clearing his throat; _something_ was caught in the back of it. "But you're to go to bed right away and stay in the guest room. If you make any noises in the middle of the night or wake me, I'll have you right out."

Alfred turned his eyes up to Arthur. It was much too like times long past that Arthur's throat clenched on that _something_. "Can I sleep with you…? I don't want to be alone…"

Before Arthur could reply, he found himself coughing. He turned away, his hand covering his mouth, as he raced to the kitchen. After a few moments, Arthur returned looking sheepish.

"Excuse me. I didn't know that I was so parched."

Alfred regarded him a moment and then smirked slightly. "Still an old man, huh?"

"Don't look a gift horse in the mouth, Alfred," Arthur snapped. "I let you stay, did I not?"

"Yes…," Alfred sighed. "But you didn't say if I could sleep with you or not."

Arthur glanced at the clock. He shook his head to see it was barely past seven in the evening. "It's far too early for me to sleep yet, Alfred. You need your rest."

He could see how quickly Alfred was trying to formulate a way out of sleeping, so he too thought up a way to shoot down any requests he was about to make. But when the blonde asked for food, he realized that it was past dinner and he too was hungry. He resigned to the kitchen and started to cook, but Alfred followed him in. Arthur protested to him standing, but Alfred was insistent when he said that he didn't want to be away from Arthur's side. The two agreed Alfred would remain at the kitchen table until he had finished eating.

During dinner, Arthur watched the other man cautiously. There were countless times that Alfred was almost far too weak to sit up straight in his seat or pick up his fork, but he persevered. Arthur was slightly impressed that when he cleared the table, the younger man was still awake and had eaten every drop on his plate. Of course, he wouldn't let him know such a thing. He was still putting on the airs that he was annoyed with Alfred's presence.

And quite honestly, he was. If he were so sick that he couldn't even walk to his car or drive back to his home, he would never have left in the first place. He felt incredibly angry that Alfred had been so selfish and imposed himself on Arthur just so he could see him.

And yet…

"Now it's to bed," Arthur said, ignoring that _something_ crawling up his throat. He felt a twitch in his gut that made him think of earlier times. He had said the same phrase so many times to the same man, but only when he was but a child. "I'll join you when I feel like it, but I gave you my word I'd share my bed with you so don't fret to me about joining you. It's still far too early for me, though."

Amazingly, Alfred didn't complain or whine. He merely nodded and headed upstairs. Arthur watched in slight disappointment. Somewhere in his gut, worming up into his throat, he had wanted a small bicker to break out between them with Alfred somehow managing to drag him up the stairs.

It was because of this that Arthur blamed himself and felt his throat constrict all the more as he went up the stairs. He found himself waiting outside the bedroom while he heard Alfred shuffle around, most likely undressing. But when Arthur entered the room, he saw the man was still in the same clothes, face down in the pillows, and taking up the majority of the bed.

"Hey, hey!" Arthur barked, kicking open the door. "How am I supposed to sleep with you taking over the bed?"

Alfred lifted his head in surprise. He blinked back weariness, but managed a weak smile. "I thought you weren't coming to bed yet. Did you realize you're too old to stay awake this long anymore?"

"Hush up." Arthur pushed Alfred's limbs on to one side of the bed. "If you're going to sleep in my bed you must dress appropriately. I will not have you dirtying up the sheets."

Arthur moved to his armoire and produced a pair of long pants and a matching shirt. He handed then to Alfred, taking his own pajamas, and slipped into his adjoining bathroom. Once they were both changed, Arthur joined Alfred in bed.

The two were silent, neither one coming up with anything to say. Arthur wondered if Alfred would just fall asleep without there being an awkward moment between the two. If that were the case, would he care so much? Alfred had said something about some people coming to get him in the morning. Did they know he was sick?

Alfred was one of the first of the nations to come forward about his existence, Francis being the first. There had been rumors that Alfred had always been known by his people, but the news didn't get out to the world until after World War I. Arthur had secretly always believed this to be true as Alfred was much more in tune with his people when he was younger than a lot of other nations.

If that were the case, then did the unrest signal Alfred's lack of understanding his people? Arthur knew he had lost some of his some time ago around when the Punk era had come about, but he wasn't sick or frightened. Some of the other nations had never been on good terms with their people or government while others were even still unknown to the general public.

A few creaks in the floorboards of the old Victorian house caused Arthur to return from his thoughts. The house continued to settle as the wind outside rustled against the window.

"Nothing's changed," Alfred mumbled. "This house…it's still the same as it's always been."

"Why would it change?" Arthur asked. His back was to Alfred as he faced his bedroom door. "I enjoy this house more than the rest of my others and I try to keep it in the same condition it's always been in."

The wind picked up slightly causing the windows to rattle for a moment. "What do you think makes someone want to change their mind?"

Arthur chuckled. "My, my, you're being awfully deep today. What brought all of this on? A dying man's last thoughts?"

"Something like that."

"Alfred," Arthur started. He turned around to face Alfred's back. "Why do you think you're dying? Don't you think this is just something brought on by the economy?"

"My scientists think that's what stimulated it," Alfred replied.

"Scientists?"

"Yeah… When I first got wind that I might be a little under the weather, I had them check me out," Alfred started. He turned around as well, his blue eyes glowing in the darkness. No longer hidden behind his glasses, Arthur couldn't help but stare into them. "They said it was the economy, at first, but then it just got worse and worse. The ongoing war overseas, the last Presidential election, how separate all sides are, the Oil Spill, and just… everyone else outside."

"Everyone else outside?" Arthur asked. "What do you mean?"

"No one outside is helping." Alfred lowered his eyes becoming more downcast than before. "They nitpick me, finding every available moment to hate and bash on me. Even during sports games like the Olympics or the World Cup. I try and keep it sportsman like, but I hear others' people talking trash."

"Of course they'll talk trash," Arthur smiled. "You're an amazingly strong country and no matter where we turn, so many of our people are like you or want to be like you. It just happens. Can you blame us for being protective?"

Alfred shook his head. "You don't understand…"

"Yes I do," Arthur said sharply. "You forget I was a superpower before you. I know exactly how much people hated me. But I didn't let it get to me. I thought you had more strength than that."

Alfred smiled weakly. "I do…but… I'm just so tired."

Arthur pat Alfred on the cheek once before closing his eyes to sleep. "Then rest up. The people can't have a tired nation, now can they? Things always change with you. One moment you're about carrying a big stick and the next you're all about love and peace. Trust me, Alfred, things will work out."

The wind outside had finally stopped. Arthur could tell that Alfred was just over thinking things. Perhaps he really was growing up. He had managed to quell his unreasonable fears just as he had when they were younger. A smug smile wormed its way onto his face as he drifted off.

Still, Alfred spoke one last time before Arthur was claimed by sleep.

"You'll see…"

* * *

The morning came without incident. Arthur awoke, not at all surprised to see Alfred still asleep. He slipped away to start breakfast. As the Englishman cooked, he thought back on his discussion with Alfred the previous evening. However, whenever he did, that _something_ from before would come back.

"Why would you come to me?" Arthur mused aloud. "I'm not your best friend or…your brother… Not anymore. So then… why would you come here?"

It was then Arthur was jolted back to reality by a loud pounding on his front door. He left the stove, turning it to low, and went to answer. Just then, the door was flung open. Arthur jumped back in alarm. Three men, all wearing suits, took up the entire space of the front door.

"Who are you and how dare you trespass on my property?" Arthur yelled. He reached for his gun in the top drawer of his hallway table. "I'll have you arrested for breaking into Government property!"

The front man, a black man with shaved hair and mean eyes, looked at Arthur calmly. He produced a badge from his inner pocket. "I'm sorry, but we have diplomatic immunity. We are here for the United States of America."

"Oh bloody hell!" Arthur steamed. He snatched the badge to make sure this man was legitimate. "What division of the FBI is this? I've never heard of you. It says here your name is just Tom."

"Yes," Tom replied. He took back his badge. "For security reasons, I cannot tell you my full name. And as to why you have never heard of us, sir, it is because we are to remain that way. Now can you please tell us where our country is so that we may leave?"

"He's sleeping." Arthur moved between the men and the way to the stairs. "I suggest you leave him be. I hear he's a real bear if you wake him up."

"I'll take my chances."

Tom didn't move, but the men behind him came rushing in. The first two grabbed Arthur from under his arms, dragging him away from the stairs. Soon, three more men surged inside, heading straight for the upstairs.

Arthur struggled, kicking his legs and throwing punches out into the air. "Unhand me! I'll have you killed for this!"

"There's no need to fight us," Tom said, calmly. "We're just here for our country."

"Then there's no need to treat me this way!" Arthur growled. "You agents are the worst! You do not treat a nation in this manner."

"I apologize if we seem harsh, sir." Tom approached Arthur, pulling out am small device. It was square with a small screen facing Tom. Arthur was reminded of some old fashioned toy or a science fictional machine in an old television show. He waved the object over Arthur's face and then looked back at the screen. "However, this is a very dire situation. We need to make sure you've had as little contact with Sir Jones as much as possible."

"What? Why?"

Tom turned to glare at Arthur. "Because he is sick."

"This is ridiculous!" Arthur sighed. He slipped free of the agents' hold, a maneuver coming from years long ago. He pushed them away and strode right up to Tom's face. "Nations get sick. The boy is not dying, he's over reacting! You all are. Oh, you Americans always make everything to be so dramatic. I've been around a lot longer than you all and I know how this may seem upsetting, but I assure you, it's happened before. So if you would kindly leave my house, fix my door, and apologize for the trouble you have caused, I won't have you arrested."

"Unfortunately, I cannot allow that." Tom grabbed Arthur's wrist. "You're coming too."

"I most certainly am not!"

"Arthur!"

Said man turned around angrily. He looked straight at Alfred and seethed. It was his fault that all of this had happened. But when he saw how sad and upset Alfred looked, he couldn't help but feel that his anger wasn't necessary. He deflated before snapping at the American.

"Are these the people you told me were coming? Why didn't you tell me they were such warm gentlemen?"

"I'm sorry!" Alfred cried. His expression, Arthur thought. It was so genuine and sad, but so familiar. "I'm sorry you got caught up into this! I didn't know you'd be… Please, don't hurt him! He doesn't know!"

Arthur scrunched up his face in confusion. "Know what? What haven't you told me?"

Tom yanked Arthur away from Alfred. As it turned out, that was the wrong choice of action. Alfred threw his agents away from him and ran after Arthur, calling his name. Arthur saw how quickly the boy changed to a desperate and scared man, no, a child. He was reminded of the way Alfred would cry and cling to his pant legs when he left to go home to Europe whenever he visited the small colony. It was endearing at the time, but now that Alfred was fully grown, he had become a walking weapon.

"Alfred…! No! Stop!" Arthur called.

But it was too little too late. More agents appeared from seemingly nowhere, apprehending the frightened country. Arthur was dragged outside by Tom. The front lawn of Arthur's house was crawling with agents, all in suits, and a few of what looked like SWAT team members. Their vans and cars blocked the street and had pulled up onto the lawn.

"I swear you're all going to pay for this!" Arthur yelled at Tom. "Just let me go and I can calm Alfred down."

"I told you, I can't do that," Tom replied. Amazingly, he was still calm as he strode over towards a van. The doors opened as he neared. "You have to stay away from Sir Jones."

"Arthur!" Alfred screamed.

He was clawing his way to get free. Arthur was slightly terrified at seeing such an unusually happy country turn so dangerous and attack his own people. He had to act quickly if he was going to stop Alfred, but the more he thought, the closer he got to being imprisoned in that van and taken to who knew where. For a country, that could never happen.

"Tell me what's going on and I'll go with you," Arthur said loudly to Tom, hoping he'd hear him. "Tell me or Alfred will continue to resist you and I'll call my own task force to subdue you lot!"

Tom stopped. "You've been infected."

"Infected? With what?"

"Unfortunately, I cannot tell you more until I get you to a safer location." Tom looked away.

"Safer location? You're in my front lawn? How much safer can it be?" Arthur asked incredulously. He really had to hand it to Alfred's agents for being as dramatic as he was.

"Please, do not argue with me, Sir England. Please, calm Sir America."

With a sigh, Arthur turned to the increasingly violent American. He called his name and locked eyes with him. The younger man stopped instantly.

"Don't attack them," Arthur started. "I'm going with you, okay? When you get to…wherever it is we're going, I'll be there with you, okay?"

"Arthur…?" Alfred's voice was just like that of a child again. Arthur was overcome with shock. How had he reverted so quickly? Was it really just because he was that scared of Arthur being hurt?

Arthur collapsed into a fit of coughs suddenly. That _something_ had returned and Arthur knew that was the infection.

No, Arthur thought sharply. I'm not infected. I don't even know what it is!

But before he could finish his train of thoughts, Tom flung Arthur into the back of the van. Alfred's cry was the last thing he heard before the metal doors were slammed shut and he was left alone in darkness and silence.

* * *

_Hoshiko's 2 cents:_ Welcome to my new fanfic. This is my first Hetalia fanfic, so please be gentle. This is also my first ever action fanfic as I'm used to doing romance.  
Please make note that there are no pairings in this series. If you want to imagine there are, feel free to. Also, there are quite a few OCs in here, though I try to keep them as low on the radar as possible. Some, though, will be very important. If you don't like OCs, I apologize. The final note, this was an RP I had between me and my two friends.

Please leave a nice comment or a constructive criticism. I'd love to hear if you feel there should be changes to my writing or something is off.


	2. Chapter 2

_Hoshiko2's cents: _Here's chapter 2. And I realized that last chapter, I did not put a disclaimer up. Well here's one that encompasses the entire series. I do not own_ Hetalia_ (_Axis Powers_ or _World Series._) That belongs to the brilliant Himaruya Hidekaz.  
I hope you enjoy my series and stick around because this will be quite a long run. Also, if you want more background information on the characters and how everything starts to turn into what's going to happen soon, please check my side stories. And please leave me a review, even a lovely, "I like/hate this" will let me know someone's reading this.

* * *

Arthur had been in the darkness and silence for a few hours before the van he was held in had come to a stop. He had been fraught with worry and concern for Alred's well being. He had managed to calm him before being locked away, but had he stayed that way? And were his agents much gentler than Arthur's had been? While Tom had simply said Arthur was infected, that was all he said and he kept it as simple as possible. And that changed Arthur into thinking he was being tricked and kidnapped. His mood was fouler than normal as the doors opened in front of him.

"Sir England," Tom said, the bright lights behind him turning him into only a silhouette. "We have to change vehicles."

"Are we at the airport?" Arthur asked.

"Yes, sir. I figure you knew exactly how long it would take to get here?"

Arthur held his tongue as he clamored out of the back of the van. He brushed off his shoulders casually, trying to keep his cool. "I'm surprised. No one to grab me this time?"

The corners of Tom's lips twitched. "There is no need, sir. You agreed to come along and are our guest."

"Funny, it doesn't quite feel that way." Arthur turned towards the airplane angrily.

"I assure you that this is for your own protection," Tom said.

"How?" Arthur crossed his arms, glaring at nothing in particular. "My lands are safe and we have no crime, at least not compared to you. Who would be here to attack me?"

"That information is classified," Tom replied.

Arthur sighed, his annoyance with the African-American growing increasingly worse. "Am I to assume you are taking me across the Atlantic, then?"

"Not yet, sir," Tom said. He led Arthur towards the plane. "We have to make a side trip."

"Should I even ask or is that, too, classified?"

Tom chuckled slightly. "No, sir. We're going to Russia."

Red flags shot up in alarm and he stopped. He shook his head. Lately, he hadn't been on the best of terms with the ex-Soviet country. "I didn't agree to _that_. I know Alfred and Ivan are thawing out their problems, but that doesn't involve me."

"We have reason to believe Sir Russia is infected as well," Tom explained. "We have to go there to see if he'll come along."

"Isn't that a little too presumptuous?" Arthur asked, furrowing his eyebrows. "First of all, you don't know he's sick, so marching into his lands, especially with a welcome such as the one you gave me, will be sure to leave a horribly nasty impression on him. And with a country like Russia, that's not a good way of asking him to do anything, much less ask him to come to America. Secondly, if he is infected, it's his own duty to fix his own problems. Meddling in another country's affairs is a very typical American mindset. What gives you the right to go into a country that has no business being involved in Alfred's illness?"

Tom looked down at his shoes, almost sheepishly. He didn't reply. Arthur looked around and realized that there were no other cars or vans. This didn't add up. There were at least five units of agents and SWAT team members on Arthur's front lawn when he had first been apprehended, but now there was just one unit accompanying him. And that unit didn't include Alfred.

"He escaped, didn't he?" Arthur asked. He looked back at Tom, amazed. "An amazing top secret agency such as yourself let your own country escape."

"We've dispatched the rest of the troops after Sir Jones and we will soon have him back. There is nothing to worry about." Tom sounded as if he was shooting the breeze with Arthur.

"I don't take well to bull shit," Arthur grumbled. "What makes you think he went to Russia?"

"We have a tracking device on Sir Jones," Tom replied. "It's how we knew where he was this morning."

"Huh? But Alfred told me you allowed him to be there." Arthur grit his teeth as realization sunk in. "He snuck away and came to me knowing it would be awhile before your plane landed, didn't he?"

Tom couldn't help but smile, almost as if he were proud of his country's scheme. "Yes, well, I've been told that he learned such a trick from you."

"From me?" Arthur repeated.

"Yes."

Tom walked up the stairs into the plane. Arthur followed and was shown to his seat. Once the engines began and the plane flew off, Arthur brought up the subject from earlier.

"When did I teach Alfred a trick like that? Surely it wasn't recent. I don't condone that kind of behavior."

Tom looked over at Arthur in disbelief. "I don't take well to bull shit." He ignored Arthur's warning growls and mutterings under his breath. "He claims that you taught him such a thing when he was still your underlying."

"Huh?" Arthur tried to recall just when exactly Alfred had told everyone, but he couldn't think of any times. It was true he had taught Alfred practically everything he knew, but… "Oh! Yes… I remember now."

A sweet and gentle warmth spread through his chest at the memories. Back then, they had been so close, but their separation had caused many years where whenever Arthur looked back on his past with Alfred, a kind of bitterness claimed his heart. However, they were much closer now, their political status being one of a "special relationship". He could look back on such memories with fondness now.

"Yes… I see now…," Arthur mumbled, hiding his smile behind his hand as he held his head up by a hand under his chin, his fingers curled against his lips. He looked out the window without another word.

* * *

Today, it wasn't snowing. It had snowed enough the previous day in Moscow. Instead, the sun was shining bright and the crisp mid day tickled the Russian's nose peeking over the top of his precious scarf. It wasn't nearly as cold as it could be, and soon would be, but the day carried that chill that was enough to make a small shiver go down even Russia's back. The pale haired man named Ivan, not after Ivan the Terrible, as he liked to remind even his own people, stood outside in the fresh snow, ignoring its existence.

He had gotten a strange text message from Alfred only an hour ago asking him to meet him outside of his Moscow house. At first, Ivan was confused and surprised that Alfred had even texted him in the first place, but as time wore on, he was growing just slightly worried.

Only slightly, he reminded himself. Little America could only be playing some game with me.

Still, the text from Alfred was unusually brief and devoid of all little cute smiley faces or exclamation points. When Alfred texted from his work cell phone, it would be serious, but this was Alfred's personal phone; the one he used to harass others with. The texts always came filled to the brim with unnecessary words and faces that infuriated Ivan.

Still, he found preferring those faces and nonsensical rambles to the hurried and serious text from earlier. Ivan was on guard for _something_ to happen.

A man bundled up tighter than Ivan began to approach him. Ivan knew at once from the tiny blonde hair sticking out from his beanie that it was Alfred. However, he was coughing extremely hard that Ivan stepped away in shock.

"Not feeling well, little America?" Ivan asked.

Alfred stopped before Ivan and then sniffled so hard his head snapped up. He wiped his nose while staring out at Ivan over his scarf. His blue eyes were so dull that Ivan briefly thought that perhaps it was the wrong person.

"Guh… I'm horribly ill," Alfred groaned.

Ivan was relieved to know it was him, but only half heartedly. To say he was "horribly ill" looked to be an understatement. He rolled his eyes, thinking, Idiot, if you're sick enough to cough out lungs you shouldn't be out of bed. Do you _want_ to die?

"Are you sure you should be up?" Ivan asked.

"I don't want to rest," Alfred replied, shivering. "It makes me think of being sick. Being up gets my mind off of things Plus, I want to see if everyone else is okay. I'm worried my condition spread."

Ivan blinked a few times, waiting to see if Alfred had anything else to say. He was only slightly confused by Alfred's sudden ramble. "Perfectly fine. You _do_ realize the world doesn't revolve around you, _da_? Especially me."

Alfred sneezed once and shivered twice. "No, but I'm just worried… I hear that it can spread to people who I'm close to or do business with."

"That's quite a lot of countries, da?" Ivan looked up at the sky. He could feel in his bones that the snow was coming. "Try not to overexert yourself, little America. I'd hate for you to die, especially next to me."

Ivan couldn't tell if Alfred's stuttering came from his lukewarm words or the chill of the air. "Re-re-really? You don't want me to die…?"

Figures he'd take things so literally, Ivan thought. He sighed, shaking his head, but smiling as always. "I'm merely saying it would be very unsatisfying to have you die due to an illness. It would be much better to have you go down at the opposite end of my bloody pipe, da?"

Alfred chuckled and shivered, but not from the cold. He fought off a coughing fit in time to playfully jest with Ivan. "You're too serious about that shit."

He lost the battle with his body and fell into a serious of hard coughs. He bent over and poked his mouth out from behind his scarf. Some spit flew from his mouth as he continued to cough. Ivan, tired of waiting for him to finish, slammed a hand hard on his back, effectively stopping Alfred's coughs.

"Am I?" Ivan asked, talking as if the conversation hadn't been interrupted. "Don't worry, little America. It's all in good fun…sometimes."

"I always worry." Alfred stood up straight. His face was no longer covered by the scarf and Ivan could clearly see him. His cheeks were tinged pink from the bite of the chipper air. "Especially with you. You'll never forgive me, will you?"

Ivan cocked an eyebrow, his smile still in place. This was all a game, he thought. "Over what, pray tell? The list could reach Sputnik."

"Everything," Alfred replied sadly. "For anything. You'll never forgive me. Even as I stand here, possibly about to die, you won't."

Both eyebrows rose this time. A brief flash of worry crossed Ivan's mind at the words "die" passed Alfred's lips, but he didn't reflect it. He still didn't even know what Alfred was talking about. To the American, this conversation could be a game as well.

"Seeking forgiveness on your deathbed? Ha! How pathetic of you, little America," Ivan laughed.

Alfred managed a glare, but it wasn't strong. He was still fighting off more coughs creeping up into his throat. "I'm here to seek an agreement."

"Oh really?" Ivan stopped laughing, his smile growing wider. He watched Alfred much more closely. Where was his hidden weapon now?

"_Da_," Alfred replied in Russian. He held out his hand. "I haven't held any hard feelings with you for years now, despite what you think. Our politics might've clashed a lot and we might not have had the same taste in hobbies or whatever, but all in all, I never really thought of you as someone really all that bad. There aren't very many types of 'people' like us in this world... So I just want you to agree with me... that we're friends at least on _some_ level... That's all I ask…"

Ivan had listened to everything Alfred with criticism. He eyed his outstretched hand warily. "Have you been taking too much medicine, little America? You're not contagious are you?"

"Ivan…," Alfred sighed. Hearing his name, Ivan stiffened. Alfred _knew_ Ivan hated his name, especially when said aloud. "I'm here to be your friend…"

That sent up all the wrong signals to Ivan. He backed away, his smile changing along with his tone. "I've heard _that_ before, right before I was knifed in the back."

"I don't want to hurt you," Alfred pressed. He kept his hand out to Ivan. His coughs were slipping in between his words. Ivan ignored that desperate look in the younger man's eyes.

"Now you're just being dramatic," Ivan scoffed. His smile was slowly vanishing. He could only tolerate Alfred's _lies_ for so long. "It doesn't suit you."

"Because I'm _dying_," Alfred seethed. He stepped closer, forcing Ivan back. "Did you see when Kiku betrayed me? I was serious then too."

Ivan's eye twitched. "No need to remind me…" He was still at a loss of words as to how Alfred got a hold of the bomb before he did.

Still, he regarded the American. He really looked bad, with his tired features and weak eyes. It's impossible for a man like Alfred to die from an illness. It's…America, Ivan thought sadly.

"Cut the sob story, little America. You're probably suffering from eating too many of your burgers. Just take it easy and you'll recover," Ivan said nonchalantly.

He didn't realize, however, that his words struck a very tight chord with Alfred. The blonde snapped suddenly, no longer holding back any of his words. "You know what? You're one to talk you fucking little kid! You have _never_ been able to let go of _anything_! Even when people force their kindness down your throat! We're not all the same, you fucking asshole! I've been betrayed too and everyone constantly blames me for anything, but I still befriend them because we're all we've got in this world and we have to work together!"

Alfred flung his hands around as General Winter decided to make it snow. Ivan merely watched as the American continued to explode. "But you just go on and on about what a pitiful soul you are and use your pipe to get _anything_ done! And here I am, ready to die, and you're just going to blow me off! I hope all your karma gets you in the end because you fucking deserve it! You can go straight to-"

Alfred suddenly started coughing so hard that he fell to his knees, holding his chest. His heaving and wheezing were so great that Ivan's eyes widened slightly in surprise. As Ivan watched, he thought, he gets flustered far too easily. And he wonders why people take advantage of him all of the time. Being sensitivity is a weakness in "our" world.

Ivan knelt down to him and took Alfred's chin in his hand, forcing him to look up. "_Da_?"

However, blood meet Ivan's hands as it came out of Alfred's mouth. The American stared at the blood in horror while the Russian could only stare in aghast.

"Just what...is happening to you?" Ivan asked shakily. He looked at the blood in amazement. It had been a long time since he'd seen this blood. It was almost as if he had figured it had changed all these years, but it was still warm and red.

"I'm dying," Alfred replied, his voice horribly scratched.

Worry crept into Ivan. He reached for Alfred, but the man turned away. He coughed, his blood staining the snow. Ivan's purple eyes were drawn to it instantly. He grasped for Alfred in a panic, but the man scrambled away hastily.

"Shit... I'm sorry..." He started to run away, briefly looking behind at Ivan. "Wash your hands, Ivan... Hurry...!"

The snow gave way under Alfred, causing him to stumble. He wobbled before falling into the snow. As he hit the snow, more of his blood painted it red instead of white.

Ivan rushed to Alfred's side. He masked his unusual fear with his usual sharp remarks. "Idiot, stop overexciting yourself!"

Alfred shook Ivan's hands away. "N-no... I have to get back..."

"To where, exactly?" Ivan sighed. Without a word, he picked Alfred up with the greatest of ease.

Alfred, caught off guard, couldn't put up much of a fight. "To my home...in D.C. They're waiting..."

"You came all this way?" Ivan sighed heavily. Still, a small amount of warmth spread into his chest, thinking of just how much effort Alfred was making just to see _him_; Russia. "You _really_ are an idiot."

Ivan turned, leading Alfred towards his house. The weaker man tried to walk to much failure. It was almost comical as he stumbled, leaning more on Ivan than his own two legs. The Russian didn't find it at all funny. He instantly kicked in Alfred's knees, carrying him wedding style.

"Behave or I'll throw you over my shoulder," Ivan warned.

"This is embarrassing...," Alfred grumbled. He didn't put much of a fight. He was completely spent from attempt to walk and, to make matters worse, his coughs were coming back.

"You should have thought about that before coming all the way out here," Ivan lectured. He was oblivious to the snow falling around them. "At this rate, you won't get anywhere. If you're good, I may let you walk the final few steps. Then, you can start recovering, not playing the perfect hero."

Alfred grumbled in Ivan's arms, starting to force his way out. He wouldn't stand for more teasing from the older blonde. "What'll it take for you to be my friend?"

Ivan shuffled Alfred in his arms to cease his ministrations. "Why does it matter? Why are you so hung up on that notion?"

"Because I want to be friends with everyone," Alfred replied. "And I've always admired you."

Ivan's eyes hardened. "Could have fooled me. Or was 'Commie bastard' just a pet name?"

"Hey, fights happen." Alfred stopped momentarily to cough. "You think I've always been friends with everyone like I am now?"

Ivan reached his front porch and stopped, setting Alfred down on the ground. Now where were his keys? "You certainly try to start fights with me."

Alfred leaned against the wall. However, he was starting to feel less fatigue and more anger. "No, I really don't. You push at me and I try to be friendly, but like I keep saying, you take things too seriously."

"And you take things too lightly," Ivan shot back. Damnit, he swore. Where were his keys?

"No, I just choose what to take seriously. You should try it sometimes."

Ivan fought back a twitch that would have turned into a slap across Alfred's face. "And antagonizing me isn't considered serious?"

"Like you're one to talk?" Alfred scoffed. He eased himself off of the wall, staring at Ivan.

"I push when others push me," Ivan replied. He had stopped looking for the keys and was now keeping his head down to not look at Alfred.

Why am I so riled up? Ivan thought. It's normal that me and America banter back and forth like this, always has and always will be. What's different?

"I'm telling you, I don't push." Alfred began to cough again. Ivan didn't look up this time. Once he was done, Alfred mumbled, "At least...not on purpose... If I do that, I don't mean to."

Ivan heard him all too clearly. He clenched his fist in his pocket. "Easy to say…after the fact."

"You know what? It's better than nothing. And who came to who first anyways?"

Ivan was silent for a moment. He slowly lifted his head, but couldn't quite meet Alfred's eyes. "And who's hacking up blood because of it? You know, little America, this isn't one of your movies."

Alfred felt his anger bubbling, but forced down that _something_. "No shit, Sherlock. For one thing, the hero wouldn't be carried like that. And another, the hero wouldn't die… Except in _Shane_, but _Shane_ was an exception of a movie."

"Then why do you expect me to simply play into your hands?" Ivan asked. He removed his hands and stood up straight, challenging Alfred. His head spun around as to why he was so angered by Alfred this time around. Nothing had changed, so why now?

"Because it's the nice thing to do? To accept someone's heartfelt friendship," Alfred started.

Ivan threw his head back and laughed, a good, deep laugh. He stood there and just laughed at Alfred, in his face. And Alfred found he could no longer tolerate it.

"You know what? Forget it. Just forget it."

Alfred started to walk away, but Ivan caught up to him with the greatest of ease. He reached for the younger man's wrist, but he was shoved away. Alfred shoved back his friendship.

"Get away," Alfred snarled. "I made a mistake coming here."

Ivan couldn't help but growl. "What else did you expect me to do, with such a child-like comment like that? Still young. Still naive. Still thinking that this is a perfect world where everything falls neatly into place."

"Like _you're_ any _better_?" Alfred yelled.

Ivan stopped. He hated that _something _that was coming up, but to stop it, he had to say something. He had to say a truth. "For once, we agree. I'm not. Far from it."

Alfred spun around, anger clearly evident in his ever cheerful blue eyes. "Then _stop_ acting so high and mighty!"

"I've had it pounded into me from childhood of my inferiority, of my uncivilized culture," Ivan started. He stared at Alfred, not in disgust, but shock. He, too, was just as upset. But why? "And so, to counter this, I do act, as you put it, 'high and mighty'. It's pride."

Alfred stopped. His shoulders dropped as he eased back just enough.

"It's not always a good thing," Ivan continued. "It poisons those around you, enclosing you within your own tower, but within it…safety. I could care less if the world hates me, so long as I keep my people safe."

Alfred poked Ivan square in the chest. Ivan glared at the touch, but didn't flinch. He refused.

"You hypocrite," Alfred grumbled. "You are! You keep saying I'm childish, naive, and prideful and shit like that when you're _just_ as bad as I am! And then you keep teasing me and taunting me and fighting with me!"

Ivan hesitated. Shouldn't Alfred have been happy Ivan admitted such things? Why was he still fighting? It was enough to sap away the last bit of warmth he felt in his chest. "Your point? That's what makes it all the more entertaining. I can read you like a book."

Suddenly, Alfred punched Ivan right in the cheek. The man took it, but didn't fall. He staggered back a bit, readjusted his scarf, and stared back at Alfred. "Feel any better?"

Alfred found that he hadn't. It was a punch he had wanted to give for years, possibly decades, now. "NO!"

Alfred broke free of his hold. He threw more punches at Ivan, hitting him in the face, the gut, and up in the chin. Amazingly, Ivan didn't even try to dodge them. He felt that Alfred needed this; they needed this. He knew it would be oh so easy to dodge and fight back, taking the best advantage of the situation with such a weak Alfred before him, but then it would be just that easy to freeze their friendship again.

When Ivan started to bleed from the mouth, Alfred stopped. He stared at Ivan's blood, but then collapsed, falling face first into the snow. Ivan wiped the blood away, sighing in relief. He was glad that was over, but was amazed Alfred held out for that long. Now he would have to carry him inside and wait until he calmed down.

He knelt down next to Alfred. "Sad...aren't we?" When the American didn't answer, Ivan poked his side a few times. "Hey, little America…?"

But Alfred was not moving. Ivan turned him over so he could get a look at him. The younger man was ashen colored in the face, his eyes closed and his lips covered in his dried blood.

Ivan shook Alfred gently; worry creeping up the back of his spine. "Hey…America." His gentle shakes turned violent. That _something_ had returned. He coughed once or twice, but continued to focus only on Alfred. Only on America. "America! You Capitalist pig! Stop it! America! Don't you even think about it! You are _not_ allowed to die! Not...like this...Not on my front lawn! I'm the one who's supposed to kill you, by pipe, by fist, by bombs, something! Not some STUPID disease that you probably got from your abomination known as food!"

Alfred's body shook like a limp rag doll. Ivan kept holding out the futile hope that Alfred's eyes would pop open, he'd see the endless blue, but still they remained closed.

"God damn it! Don't die!" Ivan's voice cracked. "ALFRED!"

Suddenly a horde of men in suits rushed onto the scene. They saw Alfred's limp body and grew anxious, calling for Ivan to release the man. This in turn caused Ivan to grow alarmed. He instinctively grabbed Alfred, drawing him in with one arm and wielding his pipe in the other.

"What is this?" Ivan growled, looking around at the men.

Tom appeared from amidst the crowd, his hands up as a sign of peace. "Sir Russia, we have to take Sir Jones now. I suggest you release him and come with us to be tested for contamination. We mean you no harm as we work for Sir Jones. We have been sent here to take him back to the U.S. with us and help him with his illness."

Ivan growled, not believing Tom for a minute. His _something _had started to turn into the start of his _kol-_ing. "And if I DoN'T?"

Tom stared Ivan down. "I'm afraid we'll have to take him by force."

Ivan smirked. He was hungry for a challenge, although taking on a human was never long nor as much fun as it were to face a country. "TRy mE."

Ivan rushed the first group of agents, still carrying Alfred. He quickly moved to bash at their heads and break their knees. They moved too swiftly. Ivan told himself he was only slow because he was carrying Alfred and that was hindering his motions. It had nothing to do with the sudden _something _sliding down the back of his throat, touching the tip of his stomach.

Tom held out his hand, pointing at Ivan. "OPEN FIRE!"

As the agents opened fired, Ivan turned his body to shield Alfred. He took all the hits. Once they ceased fire, he looked up to them, blood dripping down his face. "Was that all? My TurN."

Tom sighed, not wanting anything to resort to this. "Don't do this, Sir Russia. You'll become contaminated. We have ways of helping Sir Jones. Just give us our country."

Ivan narrowed his eyes. "_Your_ country? I know how the FBI works." He pointed at the agents with his pipe. "Do you really have a cure or are simply going to use this as a chance to poke and prod?"

Tom rolled his eyes. "He's _our_ country. We obviously don't want him to die or else we'd be disbanded. Plus, he's always been a close friend of ours. We want him alive at all costs."

Ivan's eyes narrowed. He knew he wasn't willing to let Amer-no-Alfred go. He looked down, muttering, "Alfred really was friends with everyone, wasn't he?" He tightened his grip more.

"Listen to me," Tom started. "If you want your people and everything you stand for to keep going, you will give us back our country. Otherwise, the virus can spread to you."

That was a new word. He had heard of contamination and sickness, but not a virus. He narrowed his eyes. "Virus? What virus? What's going on?"

"It's what Sir Jones has. It only affects countries like you and Sir Jones. It can affect you at any given moment. It has already spread to Sir Canada and we're starting to see signs with Sir Japan as well. We believe you, Sir China, and Sir England are next."

Ivan was inwardly startled, thinking, Canada and Japan too? "What do you mean? How can it affect us?"

"The idea of a country and all it stands for personified," Tom began. "We believe that the very cores of the countries are starting to change so dramatically that all aspects of their personalities are being stripped away. Every so often, Sir Jones gets sick because things change inside of him; that being the ideas of the people. However, this is different as a virus has affected him, combined with the economy downfall, as well as a sudden altercation in his personality. Did you not see sudden changes in his behavior not unlike him? Have you not started to see it in yourself or in others?

Ivan paused. That was why. That was why he came asking for friendship, an agreement, and why he snapped so easily. Why Ivan, too, had reacted the way he did. Why he was clutching the man so tightly…

He focused back on the agents. "And how exactly do you plan to fix this? Even we countries don't fully understand our origins. What can you possibly do?"

Tom arched his arms around to show the general area of where they were. "Unfortunately, out in the open, I cannot say. There is word that certain other countries are using this to their advantage and are actually hunting for Sir Jones as we speak. If you come with us and agree to be tested, we will explain everything."

Ivan tensed at the word 'tested'. In other words, he thought, become a lab rat, at the hands of these capitalist pigs. "And how do I know if you can be trusted?"

"We already have Sir Canada at our facilities and he has yet to be harmed or used in any way," Tom replied calmly. "Think of this way, if there were no countries, the world would fall apart. Why would we jeopardize that?"

Ivan's eye twitched, as he held back his thoughts. He scanned the seemingly countless agents, tense for their next move. He chanced a glance down at Alfred, but saddened at seeing his limp body. He was so cold, despite how close in proximity they were. His cheerful blue eyes were gone and his irritating laugh no longer filled the air. It was all very wrong.

Ivan mumbled in Alfred's ear, "I swear, Alfred, if this is all a ruse, if I lose everything because of you, I'll bring you back just so I can beat you to a bloody pulp!" He looked back at the agents. "Very well. I'll come along..."

Tom smiled slightly. "Good... Now put Sir Jones down so that we may take him. You'll have to come with me so we can test you."

Ivan's grip on Alfred tightened. He hadn't agreed to any tests, just to go along with them and hand over Alfred when he saw the time was right. Or had he not said such a condition aloud? "I'd rather not."

"We have to take Sir Jones to a separate area where our specialists may inspect him," Tom explained.

"Separate?" Ivan repeated. "Please forgive me, but I don't trust you in the slightest. I'll come along, so long as America stays near me."

Some FBI agents started to move in, but Tom cut them off. He shook his head. Their anxiety lapsed momentarily, but Ivan's was still tense. He stared them down, edging them on to fight him.

Tom returned his attention to Ivan. "All right then... This way, please."

Ivan was surprised that they actually complied, but remained cautious. His pipe was still firmly in his grip. "Very well."

Tom turned, causing the agents to part. Behind them were black vans sitting so unassumingly in the street in front of Ivan's house. Tom led the way, Ivan following, keeping watch of the men. Why must it always be ominous black vans? Ivan thought to himself. He got in, carefully holding Alfred, while glaring down anyone whose gaze lingered.

The doors slammed closed, drawing Ivan a familiar darkness and silence. Only, he was holding Alfred tight to his chest. He could still hear his heartbeat, but it was faint. That was enough hope to make the large man give a tiny smile; one he would only give in the dark.


	3. Chapter 3

The darkness lasted for such a long time that Ivan could no longer tell what time it was. Somehow, he had actually forgotten to put on his watch. It was another thing that made him nervous about this so-called "virus". Did it also make him forgetful?

Tom had explained some of the details, but had been kind enough to not explain just what exactly this "virus" was and why it had caused Alfred to not only cough up blood, but faint as well. Yes he had said it was the very ideals of the people changing, but was such a thing really enough to make two, possibly more, nations get this sick? It wasn't something entirely new. During the travel, the American hadn't once stirred and Ivan was actually a little grateful. It gave him time to think. He thought mostly of escape plans in case these agents weren't who they said they were, but also of what could happen if their predictions came true.

Nations were prepared for wars, invasions, betrayals, natural disasters, and plagues, but nothing like a "virus", whatever that meant. How was a country to prepare? One couldn't put up blockades or prepare the military, they couldn't cut ties with another country and they couldn't evacuate cities or write up plans. The Slavic country found himself growing more and more paranoid, wondering if just holding Alfred made him even more sick.

The van lurched violently to the side suddenly, the tires squealing. Ivan was jolted from his thoughts. It felt as if they were sliding down a hill for a moment, sending Ivan to crash into the wall. He swore in Russian before the van righted itself. The speed increased drastically.

"Oh, now what?" Ivan asked aloud. He tried to catch his balance while holding Alfred's body, but it was a sloppy attempt.

The van halted instantly, only to rock horribly back and forth. Ivan slipped from side to side, losing his hold on Alfred. He bit his lip in frustration. Swearing some more, he flung the blonde over his shoulder. There was a clattering as Alfred's glasses flew off into the darkness. Ivan scrambled to get them back when the van crashed onto its side.

It was deafeningly silent only momentarily, Ivan catching breath. Suddenly, there was loud banging on the doors and walls as men outside began shouting. Ivan was reminded of the Soviet Union and raised his defense more. He gripped his pipe tighter, keeping Alfred closer to him.

It was then the doors banged open and men in military drab pointed their large guns at Ivan and Alfred. All of them yelled at Ivan in a different tongue and came to grab at him. Ivan, acting on instinct, lashed out with his pipe. However, being stuck in a van didn't help him hit anyone as he had hoped. He cursed at the FBI agent's lack of help.

God, where are the KGB when I need them? Ivan thought angrily, gritting his teeth.

One of the men aimed his gun directly at Alfred as if to threaten the unconscious man's life. Ivan saw this motion and practically growled at the attacker. Ivan's own threat didn't work as the man shot. Having experienced countless battles, Ivan knew how to move quicker. He shoved Alfred to the side in time, taking the bullet in his chest.

To a country, especially one with as much land girth as Ivan, bullets are never painful. Many at a time can be a bit painful, but it's nothing any one can't get over quickly. Most of the time when a human shoots it's a mere annoyance to have to stop and fire back. However, these bullets were not the case. For the first time, bullets hurt. A small gasp escaped Ivan.

From outside the van, a man's rough voice in English shouted, "Now, come with us and bring that country with you! He belongs to _us_!"

Ivan recovered his composure in time to see the man step forward. He didn't have any qualities about him that made him stand out other than the massive machine gun pointed at Ivan's head.

"And just who are you?" Ivan asked, shooting the man a deathly glare.

"Don't ask questions!" the man shot back. "Get out here or we shoot more! We know you're a country and can't die by bullets, but they can still hurt. Now get out here!"

Ivan growled, wanting nothing more than to go all curse the speaker, but he was in closed quarters, no backup, and a limp Alfred. Mainly, he had a limp Alfred. He could care less about his own being at the moment, but he had no idea just what state the younger blonde was in.

"Fine," he snapped.

Once Ivan emerged, the men closed in on him with guns and poked and prodded him over towards a man wearing different clothes than the others. It was much more casual, just a T-shirt and raggedy jeans. Ivan noticed that he was the only one not carrying a gun. Ivan grinned, hoping he could get close enough to use his lead pipe on him.

The man looked at Alfred, chuckling. "How unbefitting of a hero..." Seeing Ivan pull Alfred closer, the man cocked an eyebrow in curiosity. "Protective now?"

Ivan ignored his question, sneering at him. "You're just a human. How dare you try to take on Russia? You're just a small terrorist group, trying to get your fifteen minutes of fame, da?"

He began to take a mental count of the men surrounding him, seeing a group of about twenty in total. However, knowing a terrorist group, there would be gorilla units nearby, just waiting for him to try something. He'd have to be patient.

"Just what were you doing with America in the first place?" the man asked nonchalantly. He too ignored Ivan.

Ivan wondered just how much this group knew. He would have to choose his words carefully. "The Capitalist Pig was meeting with me to discuss our future relations together and I'm afraid my boss wouldn't be all too happy to hear that our civil meeting ended with something happening to him."

A slow, coy smile slid across the terrorist leader's face. "Really now? From what I heard he went to see you and then collapsed. It was after he, what was it? Continuously punched you?"

Ivan stiffened, but kept his face neutral. His mind raced with thoughts. We were watched? For how long? What did he hear?

"Doesn't mean the meeting was pleasant. You understand how insufferably irritating he can be."

Some of the men were shifting their weight as they stared hungrily at Alfred, kept close to Ivan's chest. The leader glanced over, his smile widening, until one of the men took a step forward. His appearance changed and his single glare forced the man back into line. However, when he turned his attention back to Ivan, he was completely calm again.

"Now then...it seems my men are getting anxious. We would so love it if we could have America for a little while. We need to have a chat, me and him... That is..." He looked just as evil as Ivan with a creepy smile. "…if he's still _alive_."

Ivan recognized that look instantly. It was the same expression he had faced many times before from other countries and humans alike, even his own bosses from time to time. He returned the compliment. It would take more for him to be intimidated.

"I'm afraid America can't answer you right now, but if you'd like to leave a message feel free to go through me," Ivan replied cheerfully. He even giggled; a clear message he was unafraid.

The leader regarded Ivan for a moment before raising his arm. "Very well..."

He pointed at Ivan allowing the men to let loose a barrage of bullets on the country. Ivan took multiple rounds, the thick slugs burning into his flesh, sending searing shots of pain through his body. He gasped, taking his pipe and using it to keep him from collapsing. He refused to fall to his knees.

Ok, Ivan thought. Getting shot at was getting _really_ old.

Just as Ivan was to reach his limit and turn to release, a large grenade went off near the horde. Planes flew overhead, dropping smoke bombs around everyone as mass chaos took control of the mob.

The leader made a clicking noise with his tongue. He remained calm as his men turned their guns to the skies, shouting in panic. "I knew they'd get here soon enough... Well I guess we'd better leave..."

With one last horrible smile at Ivan, the leader of the terrorist group turned his back on Ivan. He and his men left easily with no agents or explosions hitting them. The smoke bombs covered them as they vanished. Ivan started to follow when the U.S. military swarmed him.

"Sir Russia!" a general asked as he approached Ivan. He saluted quickly, Ivan automatically returning it. "Are you all right? Do you require any medical attention?"

Ivan had only half regarded the man, his eyes glued to where the terrorists were easily escaping from. He started to go after them. He was not going to get away with shooting the Russian Federation.

"Get that man," he barked, pointing towards the group. "Medical attention can come later." As he attempted to pursue the men, he grasped his chest with his pipe hand. He's body had taken far too much abuse.

"Don't worry, sir." The general had come up beside Ivan. "We're pursuing him as we speak, but we need to get you and Commander Jones to safety. Please come this way immediately."

Ivan cursed at the loss of blood that caused him to feel dizzy and have his vision blur. He desperately wanted to lead the search party, but knew his body couldn't hold out. Reluctantly, he nodded, trying to maintain his balance. The general led Ivan to another van, this time with tanks surrounding it. Ivan then noticed that Tom was sitting on a stretcher, receiving medical attention for his arm.

"And just where were you this whole time?" Ivan growled at the agent. "If this is how you protect your own country, I have even less faith in your abilities."

"Excuse me for being taken at gun point while all my men were mercilessly shot at before I even had a chance to react," Tom snapped. His nerves were shot from the entire incident at seeing all of his men fall so easily. He had narrowly missing his own death. "We did our best to confuse them with multiple vans, but as you can see-"

"Now is _not_ the time!" the general snapped, forcing the two into silence. "We have a critical situation here with both Sir Russia and Commander Jones. We must get them both to a medical facility!"

As if to emphasize this point, Ivan nearly fainted, just catching himself with his pipe again. Ivan grunted, refusing to faint. He was helped by military personal to a spot inside the medical quarters where Alfred was taken from him. Soon after, his wounds were tended to.

"These bullets," Tom mused, picking up one as it lay in the bloody tray near Ivan. "It's unlike any other bullets. These are infused with special minerals from the Earth."

"You don't say," Ivan grumbled. He refused to look at the agent.

"We'll take this with us to find out how it hurt you," Tom said, depositing the sample into a plastic bag he grabbed from the table near the doctor's equipment. "I've never seen such a bullet before. I wonder who supplied this group with this…"

"Will you be able to extract anything from it?" Ivan asked. He eyed Tom suspiciously, doubting his abilities even more than before.

"Of course." Tom dropped the bullet into a plastic bag, quickly hiding it in his pocket. "We have specialists. They'll find everything they need to by looking at this."

"These specialists…," Ivan started. He narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing every word. "What are they specialists of?"

Tom glanced at Ivan. "Of you and your kind of course. They've been researching the origins of your creation for decades. Sir Jones has been funding them for years. He's also been overseeing everything since he founded the department."

Ivan rolled his eyes. He should have guessed that Alfred would do something like this. Still, he was the tiniest bit curious about what their findings could possibly be. Not one nation knew about their origins, how they were able to live, and just what exactly they were made of. There were times they had human feelings such as their own personal desires, but for the majority of the time, they were bound to their people and their government.

Many had tried to unearth some tidbit of information, but where to look exactly. It was confusing enough as it was that creations such as Micro nations and Empires, but not exactly countries, were able to exist. How Sealand, The Principality of Wy, and Prussia existed was beyond the majority of them. It didn't help that certain sections of a nation itself was a living being such as a city, a prefecture, or a state. Ivan had always wanted to look into such an issue, but a nation was far too busy. He wouldn't admit it, but Alfred was smart to hire his own humans to look into it for him.

"I see. Where is America anyways?" Ivan muttered. He was done being tended to, but it didn't matter. His wounds were healing quickly as always. The bullets may have hurt him, but once they were out of his body, they had no affect on him.

"He's receiving treatment in another van," the general replied. "And we had better move out. He needs medical treatment, but would heal faster if he were back home."

Tom nodded. "Agreed. Let's go."

* * *

The building was just like any other on the street. It wasn't too bland and it wasn't too normal, it just was. That was the point. There was no address, no sign saying that it was a top secret government run building, and certainly had no indication that three stories up, a few of the world's nations were being held.

Arthur had arrived first, but was told nothing about the situation that happened in Russia. As far as he knew, Ivan was infected as well, but they had managed to get Alfred. One could only hope that Alfred had calmed down. Arthur recalled just how terrified the younger man had looked.

It was surprising. What could have possibly made him revert to that mind set? Was he truly terrified or was he speaking the truth? Certainly he couldn't be fully lying. They had involved a lot of humans and Russia now. But how did this all start?

Arthur knew the only way was to go into the building and start demanding some answers. Luckily, once he entered the agency, he was met by a very pretty blond woman. She was wearing thin glasses, a business dress suit, and her hair in a messy bun. She was holding a clipboard, obviously waiting for Arthur's arrival. She saluted and followed Arthur by his side.

"Good afternoon, Sir England," the woman said cheerfully. "I trust your flight was pleasant."

"You could say that…," Arthur grumbled. He was still awfully sore at his door being bashed in and being treated like a criminal.

"My name is Abigail Woods. I'm here to personally assist you and all the nations that are here," the woman continued. Her blue eyes made Arthur look away; she looked an awful lot like Alfred. "If you have any questions, please feel free to ask me."

Arthur stopped. "Okay, here's one. What the bloody hell is going on! First, America comes to me in a panic, coughing up blood, and then your agents break into my house like I'm some criminal! And here I was making breakfast for the bloody git! Then you cart me off to America with no information and say this 'virus' spread to Russia, but also say that America got away. What kind of agency is this?"

Abigail had stopped as well and was waiting until Arthur had calmed down. She kept her perfect little smile in place and nodded. "Right, well I can't explain until Agent Tom returns. Please follow me."

"What? No, I refuse to go anywhere until I get some answers."

"And I promise you I will explain everything once Agent Tom returns. For now, please rest. We will have to get a sample of your DNA to check and see if you're infected."

Abigail took off down the hallway, her brisk walk signaled she wasn't going to back down either. Arthur sighed, cursing his luck. It would figure he'd get the pencil-necking librarian agent. At least she was better than Tom. Only slightly.

After a short and uneventful ride in the elevator, Arthur was lead down a dull hallway. Abigail made sure to be quiet the entire time. Arthur knew that asking any questions were useless so he saved his breath. The lady showed Arthur into a small laboratory where a doctor and a nurse waited for him. He patiently did as he was told; giving his blood and allowing the doctor to take a sample from the roof of his mouth. Once done, Abigail showed Arthur down the same hallway towards another room.

"You know," Arthur mused aloud. "I believe that was my first time having my blood drawn." He looked down at his bandage on his arm.

Abigail glanced at him. "Well, there's really no point, now is there?"

"Then why did you take it?" Arthur asked. When Abigail didn't reply, Arthur looked at her. She turned away, but Arthur caught sight of a smile. Was she hinting at something?

Before Arthur could think any deeper into the situation, Abigail stopped at a door. It looked exactly like the others in the hallway. She opened the door that lead into an empty room save for a few chairs scattered around a central table. Arthur stepped inside warily.

"Please wait here. Agent Tom should be returning from Russia shortly." With that, Abigail left.

Arthur sighed tiredly. He sat in a chair, running his hand through his hair. He started to think about what the secretary-like woman had hinted at, but before he could, there was movement under his legs.

"Maple…"

Arthur jumped up." Matthew?"

A young man with shaggy blonde hair and glasses smiled up at Arthur sheepishly. He looked like Alfred's twin except his eyes were violet and he had a long curly strand of hair that stuck out. He also had a much gentler and smaller smile compared to Alfred. Most nations ignored the soft spoken country as he was always outshined by his older brother, but Canada, or Matthew as was his human name, seemed to be quite comfortable with his position in life.

"Hello," Matthew mumbled. He rubbed his arms almost as if he were cold. "I see you've been brought here too."

Arthur nodded, taking another seat that faced Matthew. "I'm afraid so, but I don't exactly understand what it is I've been brought here for."

"I don't know either," Matthew admitted with a small chuckle. "And I've been here for a day."

"What?" Arthur was shocked. "A day? Does you government know about this?"

Matthew shrugged. "That lady told me that they would handle everything."

"Everything but questions," Arthur scoffed. He crossed his arms, looking around in anger. "When I see Alfred, I'm going to really give it to the git. How could that wanker get us mixed up in all of this?"

Matthew frowned. "I guess he was scared."

Arthur didn't say anything. The two nations were silent for awhile until Abigail returned. She offered no words, just food and a stack of cards. She left quickly allowing Arthur and Matthew to pass the time with cards. However, this moment didn't last too long. Matthew started coughing loudly, clutching his chest. Arthur looked up in alarm. It was a similar cough to Alfred's shortly after Arthur found him outside on his porch.

"Matthew?" Arthur started. He reached his hand out. "What's wrong?"

Before Matthew could answer, the door banged open. Ivan stormed in, fuming. Abigail followed him a little rattled. Arthur assumed that Ivan had given her his infamous smile and cold treatment. Her glasses were askew on her face and her hair was a little ruffled. Arthur felt a little pity for the woman.

"Sir Canada?" Abigail rushed to Matthew's side, touching him gently.

Ivan looked around, growing angrier seeing no answers to any questions he had. "Where is America? He has to have a conversation with my pipe."

"Sir Russia, please be patient. He is being tended to for his injuries," Abigail replied, glancing at him.

"Injuries?" Arthur stood up. "What have you done to him?"

"We were attacked," Ivan sighed. "This agency is so incompetent. What I wouldn't give for my KGB."

"Attacked? By whom?"

Matthew's coughing had ceased finally and he was able to sit upright. Abigail, satisfied he was well enough, started to take her leave, but Ivan had other plans. He grabbed her by the shoulder, spinning her around.

"Are you leaving us already?" he asked, his smile growing colder by the second.

Abigail shivered and recoiled, staring at his ominous purple eyes. "I…I have to greet the other nations…"

"There are others?"

"D-_da_…"

"Oh, you speak Russian!" Ivan's smile only grew wider. He towered over the petite woman. "Then tell me what exactly is going on."

"Russia," Arthur called. "Leave her alone. She's just some lady that works here. We should wait for that bloke, Tom."

Ivan hesitated, staring down the blonde, before he backed away. His smile was still frosty, but he chuckled. Abigail took that as a sign that she was allowed to leave and so she wasted no time scampering from the room. Ivan took a seat far from the other two nations. He twirled his water pipe in his hands while humming a Russian folklore song.

Arthur stared at him in disbelief for a few moments before turning to Matthew. "Are you okay, Canada?"

Matthew nodded. He was now holding a cup of water. He smiled up at Arthur. "Sorry. That's been happening recently. I don't know why."

"Your economy has been doing quite well during this recession, though. Why would you be considered infected?"

"I'm not sure. But we don't even know what this infection is."

"It's simple, da?" Ivan smiled at the two. "It's all a game that little America made up to pass the time. He has nothing better to do."

Matthew furrowed his eyebrows slightly. "But…Alfred has been too busy to play games."

Ivan ignored the Canadian. "It's just like America. He thinks he's so wonderful, doesn't he? He even got his humans involved in this. What a baby.

"That's enough." Arthur stood before Ivan. "I'll admit when this entire ordeal started, I thought it was a joke or some game as well, but Alfred would never involve his humans or take the joke this far. Plus, he's far too busy what with the Middle East and Korea. I doubt he'd take any time off to play some kind of obscure game like this."

Ivan merely smiled before hiding his snarl behind his scarf. He looked down at the floor as Arthur returned to his chair. No one said anything and the Western nations didn't continue their card game.

A few moments later, the door opened again, this time with less force. In walked two Asians. Arthur stood up in surprise.

"China? Japan?"

The Asians were almost exact in height, except the Chinese man was just a little taller. From the back, he looked almost like a girl with his long black hair pulled into a ponytail. His almond shaped eyes scanned the room quickly before he sighed.

"Aiyah. You three as well, aru?"

The other Asian man had a much smaller frame as he stood in the doorway. His short black hair curved around his pale face making his black eyes pop out of his face. He looked extremely stressed and anxious to be there, but he hid it well with a polite smile.

"It's a pleasure to see you all again," the Japanese man started. "However, I wish it were on better terms."

Arthur smiled slightly. "Me too. I take it they told you as much about the situation as they told us?"

Both Asians sighed, nodding. Ivan stood up, staring down Abigail again, who hastily retreated. He strode up to China also known as Yao. Japan, or Kiku, scooted away warily.

"What do you make of this?" Ivan asked simply.

Yao shrugged. "I don't know, aru. I don't know how my government will take this, aru. It was so quick and I didn't have time to explain anything…"

Abigail quickly returned behind Yao and Kiku. Beside her stood Tom.

"Tom!" Ivan and Arthur shouted.

The man held up his hands. "I understand you all have many questions. Please come with me and I will explain everything."

Not one country wasted a single moment as they hurried out of the room. Matthew took up the rear. Arthur heard him wheezing slightly, but pushed his worry aside. The group was lead to a crowded room where high-tech machines were whirring and beeping. In the center of the room was a bed where Alfred was lying. Various wires were plugged into his arms and chest. However, the strangest sight was a rather large wire injected in the middle of his torso. It was hidden underneath the white sheet draped over him, but the origin of it led off into the other side of the room.

"What is all of this?" Arthur asked incredulously. He'd never seen such an elaborate setting before. Scientists, doctors, and nurses were rushing about the room, talking in hushed voices.

"Is Alfred okay?" Matthew slid through the group, his eyes locked on his twin brother.

Tom nodded. "Sir Jones is doing just fine. He's resting right now, but I agreed to answer questions about the virus."

"_Da_, do tell." Ivan started for Tom. Abigail instinctively flinched away.

"Have any of you ever understood your true origins?" Tom asked.

"We are created by what the people wish for," Kiku replied softly. He was examining all of the equipment, but turned his attention to Tom. "Their ideals and desires for a nation are held within us."

"That is correct. Now…what if those same people no longer wanted those ideals installed in their nation?"

Arthur sighed. "This has happened before with us. If such a thing were to happen, say a revolution, then we as nations go with it. We cannot go against what they want."

Tom held up a finger. "What if you did?"

"That's impossible, aru. We can't," Yao argued. "I'd know from personal experience."

"_Da_, as would I…," Ivan mumbled.

"Fair enough, but if there is a significant amount of people that still hold on to the old ways, how would you as nations handle these feelings?" Tom asked.

Matthew seemed confused. "Do you mean if the nation was half and half on the issue of what a country should be?"

Tom nodded. "In a sense, yes. What do you think would happen?"

"We'd become sick, but in the end, we'd still have to do as our people requested," Arthur replied. "It's nothing new to us, as I have said before."

"Wait," Kiku said, stepping forward. "Do you mean to say that all of us are growing ill because of a revolution about to take place in America?"

Tom didn't reply. The nations looked slightly alarmed.

"But how does America's revolution have to affect me, aru?" Yao asked.

"You and America's economies are very close, though," Tom replied.

"Surely, that doesn't mean we're all affected because of that! If that were the case, then everyone who is close to America would be infected."

"But Alfred is close to everyone," Matthew mumbled.

The nations were silent for a few moments while Tom stood before there, stoic as always. Arthur sighed, shaking his head in confusion. Something just didn't add up. How did this all happen so quickly? He glanced at Alfred, still asleep on the bed, when his eye caught movement.

Abigail had been standing behind Tom the entire time, but now she edged just to the side of his right arm. She caught Arthur's attention and moved her eyes to the left. Arthur followed her eyes and saw that she was indicating the larger wire leading to the other side of the room. A curtain was hanging between the walls making the room into two as well as effectively hiding whatever was on the other side to where the wire ended.

Arthur's eyebrows rose slightly. He looked back to Abigail and saw Tom was staring at him. The woman had shifted back behind Tom.

"I understand that this is very surprising, but I assure you we are working to correct this."

"How?" Ivan asked. "You can't possibly expect to stop a revolution by working on us."

"Shi, Russia's right, aru. Isn't this for the government to handle?" Yao asked.

Tom smiled slightly. "You forget, Sir China…we _are_ the government."

* * *

_Hoshiko2's cents_: No, I will not say what terrorist group it is or even what area of the world it's in. I made it vague on purpose. I'm sorry if they offend anyone. I'm just writing what I think would happen given America's current state of affairs in the world and how the country is view today by other societies. I happen to think that some people would celebrate the fall of America, sadly.

As always, please leave a nice review. I love knowing how I can improve in my writing and what you think of the series.


	4. Chapter 4

The nations were shown to their own separate rooms. Neither one of them felt satisfied with the explanation Tom gave to the "virus". Ivan and Yao were extremely skeptical, Matthew was worried about Alfred, and Kiku never let on just what exactly he was thinking. Arthur, however, was trying to figure out ways to leave the room and slip back down to where Alfred was.

The two things the blonde woman, Abigail, had hinted at to Arthur were making him anxious. He paced his quarters restlessly. When dinner had rolled around, he asked to see the woman again. She appeared shortly.

"Yes sir?" Abigail smiled politely.

Arthur glanced around. He knew that while no one else was around, that didn't necessarily mean someone wasn't listening.

"How is America's condition?"

"Do you mean Sir America or the actual state of our country?" Abigail asked, smiling wider.

"As a nation, both of those answers are crucial information."

"Sir America himself is still sleeping, but his wounds have slowly started healing. He should be able to see visitors shortly if you would like to see him," she replied sweetly. "As for the state of the country, it's hard to say. Some days, it seems like we're making progress in recovering, but other times, the people are uneasy with the government."

"The last few elections haven't been exactly the easiest on America, have they?"

"I'm afraid so. The people get so angry that they make it seem as if they are losing their patience with the government."

"You don't say," Arthur mumbled. A smile twitched at the corner of his lips. "I'd wager these are because of recent events and tough political choices your people have argued about for the past few years."

"It could be," Abigail replied. Her smile had changed to a very devious one. Arthur's eyebrow twitched in amusement. "But that is our job to _protect_ the national interest of our country…"

Arthur hesitated for a few moments. He was trying to think of just what Abigail was getting at when she broke his reserve.

"Would you like to see Sir America now?" Abigail asked.

"Yes, if that's all right."

The woman showed Arthur back down the plain hallway to the unmarked door and led him inside. It was much quieter and less crowded now. The people from before had taken their leave giving Arthur only noises as his companion. Alfred was sleeping soundly under his blanket, the wires still embedded in him.

"You may wake him if you wish. But… you can also take a look around…," Abigail whispered before slipping back outside.

Arthur smirked before looking over at the curtain. It had been pushed aside, giving a full view of the other room. Arthur was surprised to see nothing but a small table on the other side. The wire from Alfred led directly to the table where a small white sheet was resting over a small lump.

"Hello… What have we here…?" Arthur mumbled. He walked closer to the table when he heard Alfred behind him.

"Ow…," Alfred moaned. Arthur forgot the lump and moved to Alfred's side. "Arthur? What're you doing here?"

"Visiting you, you bloody git." He tried to glare down at the younger man, but he found he couldn't. He hadn't seen Alfred in such a poor state in many years. "You look awful."

Alfred managed a chuckle. "Thanks for the confidence boost, Artie."

"Don't call me that," Arthur grumbled. He sighed. "You owe me and the other countries a big explanation."

"Other countries?" Alfred furrowed his brow in confusion. "What others?"

"Your brother, for starters, Japan, Russia, and China are all here. I assume others will be arriving as well."

"What?" Alfred started to sit up in bed. "I-I didn't know they were here too! Are they okay?"

Arthur shrugged. "They seem well, but they are very upset. You do realize this is all very inconvenient. And your agency isn't giving us any information making this all the more frustrating…"

Alfred's mood quickly darkened. He looked serious, leaning closer to Arthur. "Don't trust these guys… Something's not right… "

The lump under the table, Arthur thought. He opened his mouth to talk, but the door opened. He stood up, backing away from Alfred quickly. Tom strode into the room, but before he even noticed the two, he went to the curtain and shut it quickly. He then approached the nations.

"I see you're awake, Sir Jones. I'm very relieved," Tom said simply. He didn't sound relieved at all. "And Sir England is here visiting as well. How did you find your way back?"

"I have my ways."

Tom showed no signs of response. He looked to Alfred. "Sir, it's best if you lie down and rest. You've had a long day."

Alfred sighed. "Can I eat? I'm hungry."

"Salad and tofu only, sir."

"Oh Damnit! I hate that stuff!" Alfred groaned. He dropped his head. "I just want a burger!"

Arthur smirked. "Inept and yet still a glutton?"

"I'm not inept!" Alfred shouted. He groaned, feeling nauseous suddenly. He quickly laid back down. "Fine…I'll eat the damn rabbit food."

Arthur couldn't help but touch the younger man's forehead affectionately. It was reassuring to see that he was no longer acting like the crazed and panicked child he had seen yesterday. It had been unnerving to say the least.

"Get some rest, Alfred," Arthur said gently. Alfred looked at him in surprise. He hadn't heard such gentle words from the older man in a long time. "You still have some explaining to do to the others later, remember. And Russia isn't in the best of moods."

"When is that Commie _ever_ in a good mood?" Alfred huffed. Still, he smiled.

"I have a feeling when he sees you sick here on this bed, it'll greatly improve his mood. It might even make him call you Alfred."

"If that ever happens, then the world is truly doomed."

* * *

The next few days passed slowly and without incident. All the countries were able to convene during the day in the same room they had assembled the first day. Visiting Alfred, however, wasn't allowed as Abigail had informed them that his condition was worsening. The Western countries found it strange that they were coughing whereas the two Asian nations remained unaffected. Everyone wondered if they were even infected.

While the days passed, no news on their test results from earlier had been announced and no new information had been given. Abigail reported that their governments were told of the situation, but that the general public was kept out of the loop. Arthur and Matthew didn't like the decision, but didn't speak up about it. Both agreed to be as compliant as possible in hopes of getting more answers, or, even better, permission to leave.

Ivan, on the other hand, was growing more and more anxious. His coughs were becoming harsher, causing his body to clench and shake violently whenever he went into a fit. The other nations made no movement to help him, knowing there was nothing they could do.

Finally, one day, he broke. When Abigail entered the room with their lunch, he cornered her.

"Tell me, Miss Abigail," Ivan started. "How is it I've been here for days and still have no rights to do anything other than sit in this room waiting for nothing? Do you think that's fair? I haven't even had the _pleasure _of seeing little America."

"We-well, today… We were going to let a few of you go and see him," Abigail replied, shrinking against the wall. "You and Sir Japan are welcome to follow me down the hallway to see him."

"Please…!"

Ivan turned around. Matthew was standing, albeit wobbly, and looking at Abigail desperately. "I want to see my brother too. May I go as well…?"

"I, well…" Ivan turned his eyes back on the poor woman. She tensed even more. "Y-yes! That shouldn't be a problem! Please follow me!"

The trio was quickly led down the hallway. Ivan was practically running as he took far bigger steps than Abigail who tried to keep up with the large nation. Kiku and Matthew following looked at one another, both feeling quite sorry for the woman. She had been nothing but kind to them, but Ivan had always found some way to frighten her.

"Here we are," Abigail announced. She moved out of the way as Ivan bustled inside.

"Where are you, America?" Ivan seethed. He strode up to the bed Alfred was resting and stared down at him. His chilly smile was barely seen over his scarf. "I think you have some explaining to do, da?"

But even Ivan found his anger melting when he saw the pathetic state Alfred was in. He was skinny and pale leaving no traces of the bright and optimistic country that he once was on his body. Instead, he had been replaced by this sickly looking man with the dull blue eyes.

"A-America!" Kiku exclaimed, alarmed. "What happened?"

"Are you okay, Al?" Matthew asked, coming to his side. "Are they feeding you?"

Alfred somehow managed the tiniest of smiles. "Rabbit food…"

Kiku felt someone's eyes on his back. He turned, knowing that it was Tom. The man's stares were starting to become familiar to him. "What's his condition?"

"He's fair."

"Fair?" Matthew spun around. He waved his hand over his brother. "You call _this_ fair?"

"He's not dead," Ivan said. He looked at the wires. "Don't these hurt?"

"Only when I breathe." Alfred looked at the three. "I'm surprised you all came back."

"Came back? What do you mean?" Matthew asked. "We never left."

"Never left?" Alfred looked concerned. "What do you mean?"

Tom came forward. "They're infected, Sir Jones. They've been here since you returned from Russia."

Alfred looked alarmed and began to sit up. "What? I-infected?"

Matthew held up his hands to calm his brother. "It's okay, Al. We should heal soon. We're not as bad as you."

Alfred sighed sadly. He looked down. "Well… I'm glad that Arthur listened to me and left."

Kiku came forward. "But he hasn't left. He's infected as well."

The beeping that had blended into the background of the whirring from the machines suddenly grew to a level far more obnoxious and urgent. Alfred's breathing increased and his level of concern jumped. He sat up in bed, the wires pulling at his skin. The sheet fell away to reveal that the largest of the wires was actually in his chest, right near his heart. The nations took a step back in alarm.

"What? Arthur! He's infected?"

Matthew looked confused. "Al? You sound like a little kid again."

Alfred's blue eyes had lit back up, but looked years younger as they looked at the Canadian. He grabbed the man's wrist, digging his nails into his skin. Matthew yelped in pain as he tried to pull his arm free, but it proved worthless. The more alarmed Alfred became, the more his strength increased.

"America!" Ivan shouted. "Calm down! You are not a child!"

Tom rushed forward. "I'm afraid there's nothing you can do. When he gets like this, it's part of the infection."

"You said it was a revolution. This is more like he's reverting," Kiku argued.

Suddenly, Matthew went into a violent fit of coughs. He bent over, coughing into his free hand, while his other arm started to bleed from Alfred's grip. Tom pulled out a small buzzer looking device and pressed the large button. Within seconds, more agents as well as doctors and scientists flooded the room. They ignored the countries and focused on the machines, panicking at seeing Alfred's vital signs.

"What's going on?" Ivan asked. He looked around in alarm. He did not like the way the people were reacting around him.

A hand touched Ivan's arm causing him to flinch away. Abigail was by his side. She grabbed Kiku's arm as well.

"Please, you must come with me." She went over and easily released Alfred's hand from Matthew. "Come along, sir Canada."

The nations were rushed out of the room, but Kiku continued to look back in worry. Ivan struggled at first, but was grateful to leave the room. His nerves couldn't deal with the human's level of panic. Once out of the room, they were taken back to the larger room.

Arthur and Yao stood up at the sight. However, before anyone could ask any questions, Matthew proceeded to vomit on the floor.

"Matt!" Arthur exclaimed. He ran to him, holding him in his arms. "What happened? Why are you bleeding?"

Abigail took hold of the Canadian as well. "He's growing worse in reaction to sir America."

"What happened back there?" Ivan demanded. He grabbed the woman, turning her around sharply. "You're not allowed to leave until you answer me."

"I don't know," Abigail replied, shivering at his touch. "I swear, I don't know."

"What happened, aru?" Yao tried to push Ivan away. "Is America okay?"

"I have to go see," Abigail started, sliding towards the door. "I'm sorry. I'll be back as soon as I know anything more."

"Doesn't anyone see what's wrong here?" Arthur exclaimed, exasperated. He helped Matthew stand, the younger nation finished with his fit. "Can he get some help?"

"I'll send someone here right away." With that, Abigail left, or fled.

Ivan cursed for his missed opportunity. He wanted answers, especially after seeing Alfred in such a state before. Kiku had made a valid point. If Tom had told them that Alfred's condition was being caused by a revolution, then how come the American was reduced to a state of a helpless child? He didn't like seeing the man that way. He was used to his boisterous bravado and infectious smile, not some hysterical crybaby.

"If America's turning into a baby, then does that mean we all are?" Ivan asked aloud.

Kiku looked over. He looked a little pale, his eyes trying to hide how shaken up he was, but he remained as emotionless as ever. "I don't think we're turning into babies, but rather reverting to a way we once were. In this case, America is possible turning back into that of a colony?"

Arthur looked over. "A colony? But he would only get upset when it was time for me to return to England. Other than that he was generally a happy child, much like today."

"That…wasn't Al…," Matt grumbled, his voice hoarse. "Even as a child…he was never that hysterical… And…what was that thing in his chest…?"

Ivan smiled a little too coldly for everyone's tastes. "Those questions I will find out when that woman comes back."

But Abigail didn't return. In fact, no one came; even to mop up the vomit. The nations waited in the chairs, not talking. Panic was starting to mount as they all started coughing, just a little bit at first, but then harder and with more consistency. One looked to another, but neither said anything. They didn't want to acknowledge this _something_ in their throats, their lungs, spreading to their stomachs and affecting their minds.

They had gone through worse. This was nothing.

As night drew near, Yao called for some food, but no one came. They called for drinks, but still, no one came. Not even Abigail was present.

"This is unacceptable, aru!" Yao protested. "I'm starving! We're nations, aru! Why aren't we getting any service, aru?"

Kiku fiddled with his hands, looking down at the floor in dismay. "Perhaps they are too busy?"

While Yao and Ivan continued to mumble complaints under their breaths, Arthur went to Kiku. He sat beside him, worry apparent on his face. "Japan, can you tell me what happened?"

"I just…told him you were infected as well and…he started getting really upset," Kiku replied. He looked to Arthur, but seemed to be thinking. "He really did look like a child."

"Then maybe Russia's right and he is turning back into a colony," Arthur mused. "When I first heard of this, America was at my house. Tom came to get him, but they also took me. That's when America started acting like a baby. It really startled me."

Kiku shook his head. "No…something doesn't add up. That wire in his chest…"

"It goes to something else," Arthur said suddenly. He thought of the lump under the blanket. "Almost as if…they're taking something out of him."

Kiku's eyes widened. "Taking something?"

Just then, the door's opened. Kiku and Arthur leapt to their feet while Ivan and Yao practically pounced on Tom who had just entered the room. Matthew was too nauseous to stand, but he looked over with weary eyes.

"Please, tell me how America's condition is!" Kiku asked, rushing forward. He coughed lightly into his hand, not looking from Tom.

Yao, however, was more upset at their treatment; or rather, lack thereof. "Aiyah, this is serious! And if we are all so contaminated then why are we in the same room, aru? If Canada really is _that_ bad then wouldn't that only make us worse?"

Arthur stepped forward, sighing and shaking his head. "Forget it. Just take us to see America."

Tom stood to the side, his arm out towards the door. He said nothing as all the nations started to leave. Ivan, however, wouldn't move.

"I want answers, right now," he said sternly. The nations froze at hearing his childish voice evaporate. Even Tom looked a little less stiff at Ivan's change in tone. "You haven't been telling us everything, have you?"

Tom hesitated, trying to formulate an answer. He cleared his throat. "If you would follow me, I'll give you all the answers. Everything this time."

Shaking his head, Yao said, "You've said that before, aru. How can we trust you this time?"

"Do you not wish to see what has happened to Sir Jones?"

"Al?"

Everyone looked over to see Matthew struggling to stand. Arthur went to his side, looping an arm around his shoulder and helping him. Matthew was willing everything he had left to stay upright and not fall before these nations.

"Please, take me to see my brother."

This time, everyone went. They followed Tom down the hall. It was too silent, but the silence pounded harder into their ears when they entered the room. There was no one in the room other than them causing all of their attention to rest completely on Alfred. He was lying on the same bed, but his body was flaccid and without wires in them anymore. Arthur shot a quick glance to the other side of the room where the curtain hung, but saw that it was not only missing, but the other side of the room was bare.

"Al…?" Matthew mumbled. He approached the table cautiously. "Al, are you… okay?"

"Mr. America, are you okay?" Kiku suddenly rushed forward, putting his hands on the man's body. "I'm sorry for upsetting you. I thought you knew about Mr. England's condition."

Ivan noticed it first; how pale and cold Alfred looked. He had seen a corpse far too many times to really take notice or care much anymore, but seeing Alfred in such a state caused him to back up. He gasped and reached out for Tom, but the man wasn't beside him as he was a few moments earlier. The odd ashy color that had sucked all color from his face truly terrified the nation.

"A-Alfred?" Arthur came up beside Matthew. He touched Alfred's face, hoping he was merely sleeping, but when his hands touched cold instead of the normal warmth, he retracted his hand as if it were on fire. "Why…why are you cold?"

Yao spun to look at Tom, standing just out of range of all the nations. He was looking solemnly at the group of men. "What happened here, aru?"

"We were able to revive him momentarily, but ...," Tom dropped his head. "Sir Jones passed away not too long afterwards... His date of death would be… December 12, 2012."

That was when the world tilted just a little to the left and continued to swirl. Neither country reacted first. The death of a country wasn't unusual, but for one who was once so strong and for it to happen so suddenly, well it was almost unheard of.

Ivan was first to speak, his voice a slow and deathly viper hiss. "WhAt…?"

Kiku was next as he fell to the floor. He stared at nothing as his hands shook. He had just touched the dead body of his best friend. The Western nations may have been used to the deaths of other nations, to be a once-enclosed nation like Japan it was a whole new experience.

For Arthur, though, the world wasn't done tilting. He couldn't see anything; blue only. Blue with gray. So much gray. And no Alfred. All he heard was Matthew, little Canada sobbing next to him.

"What does this mean…?" Arthur whispered. He knew Tom hadn't heard him.

Still, what would happen to all the American people? What was happening to the general population outside? And how was this rippling across the world? Surely, now the other governments were in a panic, especially their own as they weren't told exactly where they were being held.

"However, as I have said, we have found a way."

Tom's words woke everyone out of their stupor. Ivan wasn't convinced. He continued to emit poisonous glares, waiting for this _human_ to tell him and the others how a nation could come back from the dead.

"What do you mean you've found a way, aru?" Yao asked, trying to keep his voice level.

Tom nodded to his right, their left. "Just look for yourself."

The nations look in anticipation, hoping to see that Alfred was merely playing some joke. That he would be all sunshine and smiles, apologizing for his too crass of a joke. However, from the curtained room that Arthur had previously investigated emerged a small boy that wasn't there a moment ago. He wore a white nightgown, similar to an attire they all wore once were in long ago. The child's face and hair had the striking similarity of Alfred's, however gone was the stubborn Nantucket hair cowlick and those impeccably bright blue eyes. This child had red eyes.

Matthew stumbled back in fear, his coughs coming back. Arthur was so shocked, he couldn't see straight. This child felt just as they all had. He was a nation. But he couldn't possibly be America. The eyes weren't bright and shinning, like the City upon a Hill Alfred so cheerfully boasted about. These were sinister and dark; of true rebellion.

"What is the meaning of this?" Arthur exclaimed, disgusted.

Kiku looked at the child in awe. He was so faint; his words were almost covered by Matthew's constant coughs in the back. "This…is the cure…?"

"This is Alfred Jr.," Tom started. He walked over and stood next to the child nation. "Thanks to our scientists, we were able to extract most of Sir Jones' ideals and soul and implant them into the child. Unfortunately, the ideals that were no longer supported by the people were not able to transfer. Since you are all made up of the ideas and dreams and are the very core of your people, it's understandable as the nation has changed to be more like this child's core. He was created by the people not too long ago, but he lacked enough strength. We used all we could not only to save Sir Jones, but bring this child to life and give him some of the ideals of Sir Jones. We hoped they could live side by side, but the people's wills have shown that they no longer support Sir Jones..."

"Liar…," Ivan growled. His hands ached to grab something. Maybe that human's or the child's neck. Something to twist and make scream. "America's people wouldn't abandon him that easily."

"Well tough luck, old fart, but I'm living proof that they did." The child's words broke into the air with a rough and violent pull at their hearts. It dripped of pure cockiness and defilement. His smug smirk made Ivan's blood boil as the ache to strangle the child grew.

"Does it…remember us?" Arthur asked, looking away from the child. He couldn't look at him anymore.

"The histories you have all shared together have been transferred, yes," Tom replied. "As well as all the history that the American society has endured since its founding."

"_I-iyada_! That...that...that _child_ can NOT be America!" Kiku screamed. He pointed at Alfred Jr. in pure disgust. Alfred Jr.'s lip curled back in retaliation. "He's a lie! That is not a nation!"

"Why should you care, ungrateful Asian!" Alfred Jr. snarled. "Were you _not_ trying to push more and more of me out of your country? Constantly making jokes about me and my people and treating us like some third creature?"

Suddenly, a nation pushed through the group, attacking Alfred Jr. He grabbed the child by his collar, shaking him by his neck violently. Everyone was shocked to see as Matthew flung the little body around mercilessly. "YOU! YOU CANNOT BE MY BIG BROTHER! I WON'T ALLOW THIS! YOU DON'T LOOK A THING LIKE HIM YOU_ FAKE_! STOP SAYING THEY ARE _YOUR _PEOPLE! THEY ARE NOT! THEY ARE ALFRED'S!"

Alfred Jr. kicked Matthew in the jaw, causing the nation to release him. He fell to the floor, cursing and screaming. Ivan started to come forward, but Yao stopped him. They looked at one another, both desperate to get their hands on the child, but just then more agents had started to fill the room.

Somehow, Arthur had managed to keep his temper. He was taking everything in stride, but that was only from the shock on the situation. He hadn't removed his hand from Alfred's cheek. He turned to regard Tom. "So…what's going to happen now…? How should our people react to this child? Because I know that there will be many unruly people towards this new nation, especially in my country. My citizens…have always been close to America."

Alfred Jr. stood up, sizing Arthur up before him. He narrowed his eyes. "What are you implying…?"

Now it was Arthur's turn to intimidate the child. He had quite a few buccaneer years on him to make even the Spanish Armada flee. He strode towards the child, staring back at him with dark green eyes. "Do you plan to make enemies with us right from your birth, infant?"

There it was. That _something_. It had seized Arthur by his heart, pushing him away. The child watched as Arthur stumbled back; watched the old British Empire stagger back in pain. He clutched his chest as the other nations watched in confusion. Then it hit them. Their hearts clenched, bringing Yao to his knees and Ivan to blink back tears, showing only a grimace.

Alfred Jr., Arthur thought. His stare. There's something about it. It's like nothing any of us have ever felt!

"I don't ever want to see any of you ever again," Alfred Jr. started calmly. He watched with disinterest as the nations became crippled by his penetrating stare. "You're all disgusting… With the superpower killed from the inside out and with me at the head, you have no one to stop these already destructive wars. And then, soon, the new nations will rise up. And you'll all die."

* * *

_Hoshiko2's cents_: So from here on out the rating for this fanfic will go up as there will be more action.  
Also, a word about America's death. I don't think the world will end in 2012 like some people say, however, I've always thought that maybe Western society will fall for one reason or another.  
Also, one more word someone asked me about. There are no pairings in this series, but it can be interpreted if you wish. I won't say anyone's with anyone or anyone feels for anyone. Certain countries are close for political reasons and what not, but no one's romantically involved.

See ya next Wednesday at noon Pacific time! :3


	5. Chapter 5

To tell a country they were going to be killed wasn't the smartest idea. In the past, wars had started because of these words. Invasions, religious wars, world wars. But the five nations standing before the small nation had all gone through these before and lived.

Within seconds, however, the room was filled with aggressive agents, all wielding guns and blocking the exits. The nations flared up in defense, ready to protect themselves. Ivan reached out, breaking a piece off of a very expensive scientific machine. He twirled his new pipe around, begging the humans to take him on.

"Aiyah!" Yao exclaimed. His fists came to his face at the ready. "China will stay China, aru!"

AJ's eyes flashed and the agents were on the nations. The men easily overpowered Kiku and Matthew, both too sick and emotionally stressed to fight back. Ivan and Yao stood back to back, defending each other. Yao kicked high up past his head, knocking a gun free from an agent and turning it on the others. Ivan finally got his release as he would snap guns with his bare hands and use his new pipe in the other. He laughed all the while.

Arthur, however, was alone. But he could take it. He always fought alone. It was during these times he found more strength. He pushed the agents away, protecting Alfred's dead body. He pulled his gun, always at the ready by his side, but forgot that it had been confiscated upon his arrival. Cursing, he slipped one away from an agent, shooting the man dead, and turning his attention to those coming for him.

The hands reached at his arms, legs, neck, and face. They scratched and clawed for him, trying to pull him down. But he refused to fall. A nation did not fall simply because a human made told it to do so. And yet, Arthur caught sight of AJ. That child that had murdered his dear ally, claiming he was the new face of America. He stood by that traitor of an American, Tom, and watched. Watched as these other traitors tried to attack such proud and strong countries. He had been born from such humans.

Matthew went kicking and screaming, but his own body was falling victim to the virus. This virus that apparently was the birth of another child. Was that why Kiku wasn't fighting back? Arthur saw as the Asian left almost voluntarily. He didn't want to find out where he was going, but he had to protect the others. The more "old" nations, the better.

"I have survived rebellions and plague, famine and opium, oppression and invasion. I am the last remaining original nation. I WILL not go quietly! I REFUSE!" Yao cried out as he used his ancient techniques always so famous to his culture. Something he created with his people. People that were now possibly turning on him.

In that instant, Arthur found himself lying on his back, ten agents on his chest. He struggled to be free, but AJ was above him, a knife in his hand. The sadistic smile spread across his face, reaching to those menacing red eyes.

AJ lifted the knife above his head, ready to strike. "The world doesn't want you anymore. No one here loves you. Why else did you get sick? People are starting to forget you. They want to overthrow you and start with someone _new_. Someone...better!"

Arthur stopped for a minute, letting the words sink in. The truth hit him that lately, so many of his own people had begun rioting, yelling at how the government, the culture, his society had changed and their intolerance. It had spread so fast, he didn't have time to grasp it. But now, those words AJ had said hit him harder than anything.

Except for one truth.

"You're...right. You're...absolutely right...I have nothing to live for anymore. I have no one to keep me…" He grit his teeth, starting to push the men away, his strength returning. "But I don't want to die! I'm too afraid to leave my people! Not after all we've been through together! Hate or not I cannot give up on them yet!"

It was then the ground shook. Arthur wasn't sure if that was because the world really had shifted or if it was because the wall on the left side of the room had been blown clear off. AJ dropped the knife and backed away, looking up in confusion and anger. The agents turned their attention to a more pressing matter as their attempts to apprehend Yao and Ivan proved futile.

Arthur freed himself from the mass of bodies on top of him and joined the other three nations. "We have to get Canada and Japan!"

"_Shi_," Yao replied. He kept snapping his head back and forth warily, watching the men. "We need all the manpower we can get, aru."

Ivan watched the hole. It looked to be a way out, hence why all the agents ran to block it. But he noticed that they had also left the door that was still wide open to their advantage. "_Nyet_. They're on their own. We have no time."

He dashed to the door, leaving the other two nations to themselves. They wasted no time in following Ivan down the hallway, keeping an eye at the agents now following them. Ivan stopped as a metal door came down, blocking their way. He swore in Russian as he slammed into the door, hoping to dislodge it. Yao and Arthur waited, their hands at the ready to defend themselves, when a flash of gold caught their eyes. For the briefest of moments, the nations thought it was Alfred, back from the dead. But it was, in fact, the lady from earlier.

"Abigail?" Arthur exclaimed.

She was holding a rather large shotgun in her hands, her glasses gone and her long blonde hair in disarray around her. She shot off a few rounds at her approaching ex-comrades. After she was satisfied they were far enough, she turned, kicked in the door to their right, and told them to run. It was the room they had convened in daily.

"Wait, why are you helping us?" Arthur called.

Abigail moved to the window, kicking it out. "No time, hurry! I managed to free Sir Canada, but we have to go!"

Canada only? Yao thought. He stopped, stepping back. "No, we have to get Japan too!"

Abigail grabbed Yao by his wrist. "No, sir! He gave himself up! There are things even worse going on than what you think! Hurry!"

With that, she pulled Yao and herself out the window, jumping five stories straight down on top of a van. She rolled, Yao landing perfectly. Arthur and Ivan followed, but when Ivan landed, he made a rather large dent in the van. Abigail rushed to the driver's side of the car and flung open the side door for the nations to get in.

"Matthew!" Arthur cried in joy. He went right to his former colony, hugging him. "Don't scare me like that again. I lost one of my boys, I didn't wanna lose the other" he mumbled.

Matthew chuckled, patting Arthur's arm. "I'm sorry to have scared you, Arthur."

Ivan barely had time to get in the van when Abigail peeled away from the establishment. He slammed the door close with a grunt and turned to the driver. He pulled a gun on her.

"Who are you and what do you think you're doing?" he hissed in her ear.

She paid him no mind, much different than before when she cowered in his presence. Instead, she merely spun her hair up in a messy bun and focused on driving. She glanced Ivan's way, uninterested in his threat.

"Hang on or you'll be flung out of this van."

Abigail turned sharply just then as if to prove a point. Gunshots from cars following them echoed in the distance. Ivan sputtered out hurried curses before he took the passenger seat. Sticking his head out the window, he fired off a few rounds. He then looked back at Abigail.

"Tell me who you are, _American_," he demanded.

"Sorry for not getting you all out sooner. I was going to earlier, but Tom caught on to what I was up to. I'm Sir Jones' number one special agent that is sworn to protect him at all costs and do what I can to fulfill his wishes. We're a very secret agency so I couldn't let on about myself while inside," Abigail explained quickly.

"Special agent, aru?" Yao repeated from his seat on the floor in the back. He slide to the side as Abigail turned sharply again.

Arthur watched her suspiciously, his hold on Matthew tightening with every violent turn. "This is ridiculous. You mean to tell me that YOUR people came up with the idea of THAT monster child as your new nation? I know America and I know THAT thing back there was not it."

"No, that was NOT my idea!" Abigail reached down under her seat for something while she continued to drive. They were heading out of the capital and further into the rural side of Virginia. "I was trying to get in deeper to stop such an experiment. I had been trying to get in for months. That child was born months ago and they had been trying to develop ways to lure Sir Jones in. They waited for weeks for him to get sick enough that he'd fall into their hands."

Matthew, coughing, managed a question. "But how come they're after us?"

Abigail sat up as she held in her hand what looked like a grenade. Ivan stared at it uneasily. "If you're infected, there's a chance that a child, much like Alfred Jr., has been born in your country as well; a new version of you that goes against who you are. Because of that, they want to take all the older nations and kill them off to bring life to the new nations. I'm not quite sure what Alfred Jr.'s plans are, but he is definitely not a country I would want to live in."

"Wait!" Matthew tried to sit up, but a sudden swerve had him back in Arthur's hold. "But Al's body! We need to go back and get it!"

"And we will. His body is very important to retrieve," Abigail replied.

Ivan's eyes widened in realization. "So...he's not...dead..."

"Because people like me still exist and believe in him, I have reason to think that he's still alive," Abigail chanced another look at Ivan, her tone serious. "But by all accounts, he could also be dead. People are rallying to overthrow the government as we speak."

There it was; that one truth. Arthur knew it in his heart. If he was so unloved, then how was he still alive? Arthur shook his head, trying to think back to the matter at hand. "So would it really be all that worth it to go back and get his body? At this point what exactly can you do with it? His whole 'self' has been taken out of him. He's nothing but a doll now."

"But, how else are we going to bring America back?" Yao asked. "Don't we need the body so that there is something for him to return to, aru?"

Abigail looked in her review mirror and sped up. She narrowed her eyes in concentration, but continued talking. "Did you not hear Agent Tom? He said that only the new part in Sir Jones was removed. The part that's making you all sick is the new ideas of the people that go against the very core of what makes you. You were all founded to be a certain way and uphold certain ideas and ideals of the people. Because the people no longer want this, it's making you ill. Those guys took all of that out of Sir Jones and it was most of what made him. I don't believe-I REFUSE to believe that was all that made him up. There's still a chance he can come back."

Just then, the sound of a helicopter overhead filled their ears. Abigail leaned forward in the wheel as the helicopter flew over them. She watched as it turned around in the air and came right for them.

"Hold on!" she yelled.

Matthew's nerves were not up to Abigail's game of chicken with the helicopter. He shuddered in Arthur's arm, trying to hide in his chest. Just then, she quickly spun the car out of the way. She slammed on the accelerator, just missing the helicopter by inches as she flung the van off road. Ivan's hand slammed into the dashboard with a _thud_. He gripped it tightly as the van bounced up and down on the road, falling down a slight hill. Abigail's knuckles turned white as she tried to keep the van under control, but it wasn't meant to rough it like a truck would. To refute this, the van flew up into the air a few inches as they bounced up, hitting the ground with a much less than gentle landing.

For a few moments, the nations in the back of the van slid and slammed into the walls with an unforgiving type of treatment, but they welcomed it as long as they put more and more distance between them and those red eyes. Abigail looked in her review mirror again, biting her lower lip. She slammed on the break, throwing the nations forward. Ivan whiplashed and then fell back with a grunt.

Arthur sighed, aggravated and tired of running. "This is ridiculous. I knew that nothing good would come from that damned FBI the moment he decided to create it."

Abigail was already halfway out the door when she stopped to look at Arthur. "That wasn't the FBI. Whatever gave you that idea they were?"

Abigail wasted no time. She pulled out the trigger from the tip of the weapon and threw it up in the air. A smoke soon covered their entire field of vision. Abigail ran to the back, pulling out a massive bazooka the nations didn't notice was there before. She squatted, waiting for the helicopter to come back.

A small smile betrayed Ivan's lips. I think I'm starting to like her, Ivan thought. Once the helicopter appeared, Abigail fired at it. Once she was certain it was hit, she jumped back in the car.

"Hold on," she said, driving just as fast as before. "We've got quite a drive ahead of us."

"Where are we going, aru?"

"To Sir Jones' special house," Abigail replied. She looked back, catching Arthur's eyes. "It's a house I think you knew once quite well."

Arthur looked to her in shock at the mention of the house. Of course he remembered it. He wondered why Alfred still had it. "But...are you sure that's a safe place for us to hide? I mean...would they find us? Or would this buy us a little more time?"

Abigail had slowed in speed, but was still cautiously watching everything around her. "Either one of those choices will give us more than enough time to figure out a plan for getting everything right again. Now please, call your bosses and alert them of the situation. Also, I think it would be best to not let anyone else know as in the people or any other non-infected countries... The people, unfortunately, are the cause of all of this. And certain countries and groups would LOVE to hear that Sir Jones has, possibly, passed away."

"You can say that again," Ivan mumbled, remembering his little frolic with the terrorist group a few days prior to his arrival in America.

Abigail was still driving as it grew darker. It remained quiet for a long time until she turned on the radio, setting it to a world news station, keeping an ear out for any information that pertains to them or other infected countries. The nations were unable to get a hold of any of their government officials. The further into the countryside they drove, the worse their reception became. Eventually, they gave up.

Matthew started another one of his intense coughing fits. Arthur held him during these trials, his own coughs coming up now and then. Yao watched, wondering how long it would be before he joined in these painful coughs. Eventually, Matthew passed out from exhaustion at the day's events. He preferred to be asleep where Al was still himself and not some other creature with red eyes. Worried for his condition, Abigail started to speed up again.

"We're almost there," she said. "We should arrive sometime around nightfall."

True to her word, the group had arrived at a small log cabin. It was the first house Alfred had lived in when he was a small child, before Arthur and Alfred had officially become brothers. But once they had become acquainted with one another, Alfred continued to visit his first house. Arthur lavished him in gifts and helped pick up the small cabin.

Abigail told the others to wait while she went inside to secure its safety. Her gun drawn, she vanished inside the dark house. Ivan got out of the van, his back cracking. He looked around at the lush flora surrounding them. He thought of Alfred's innocent childhood, growing up here protected from all the foul hands that had ravaged him. He sneered at how lucky the boy had been, so selfish to want it all to himself. But, Ivan was not one for jealousy.

He turned as Abigail reappeared at the door. "For the time being, I'm going to have to keep all the lights off. We'll do it the old fashioned way and use candles."

She moved to help Arthur with Matthew. "We should bring Sir Williams into the guest bedroom. Do you remember where it is, Sir England?"

Arthur ignored Abigail for a moment. He stared at the cabin, his chest pounding in pain. He willed himself to break back into the present. There was no point in swimming among the sea of memories. Pushing the sound of mirthful children's laughter from his ears, he replied to Abigail, "Of course I know where it is."

He easily led the way through the house and into the back room where the shared bedroom was. This was the same room that Matthew and Alfred had used when young. Sometimes, Alfred had dragged Arthur into this room to sleep together when he was too scared to sleep. How could he forget it?

"So...shall we just leave him here? Will he be okay? Or do we need to get him something?"

Abigail had followed Arthur. She nodded. "I think it's best we let him rest here. Now that he's away from those machines and the experiments he should be able to regain some of his energy."

"Should we give him green tea, aru?" Everyone stared in disbelief. "Aiya! It helps with everything else...in China."

Abigail giggled, rolling her shoulders a bit. "Would you like me to prepare you something Sir China or Sir England? Sir Jones left some food here in case of emergency. Is there anything anyone else would li-"

Her walkie-talkie suddenly went off causing her to rush out of the room. Ivan cocked an eyebrow and followed behind her. Voices from over the walkie-talkie spoke in a different language. Ivan was suspicious as to who these voices were and what they were saying, especially when Abigail replied in the same language.

Arthur came out into the hallway, stifling a yawn. Now that his adrenaline had calmed down, he found that he was growing extremely tired. He saw Abigail rush down the hallway talking quickly and saw the suspicious look Ivan was giving her.

"It's okay, Russia. She's speaking one of Native America's tongues," Arthur explained. "I'm not sure which one, but you remember how America would use it during the war?"

Ivan looked a little more relieved, but he would've felt better if he had known what Abigail was saying. Secret agent speaking a secret code after they had just had their very lives threatened left a country a little rattled. He looked after Abigail with paranoia in his eyes, obviously not ready to be as calm as Arthur was about the situation.

That's when he noticed the large stash of old radios, computers, and televisions. Some were new and others looked well into the eighties, almost too big to fit into the house-type of model. Abigail had stopped shortly before a rather old oversized television screen and turned it on. The machine was so obsolete it took moments to turn on and the brown picture slowly faded into view, the image flickering a few times. Then the machines whirred to life, a few making odd rumbles and others barely puttering any sound.

Ivan and Arthur, intrigued by the machines, inched over in hopes of seeing what Abigail was doing. She was still talking on her walkie-talkie and paid them no attention. Yao soon entered and came up near them.

"What's going on, aru?"

Abigail suddenly clipped her walkie-talkie off. She looked over at the trio of countries obviously extremely frustrated. "We have a problem…"

"More?" Arthur asked, aghast.

"I've received word from the other members that word has leaked about Sir Jones' condition and it's going to be broadcasted on the news and the radio." She turned to regard the television that was just now showing a clear enough image of CNN.

Arthur and Ivan stepped forward, demanding answers.

"What? Is there a way to stop this from happening? Or better yet...what will happen once it gets out?"

"And who let THIS leak?"

Abigail turned to the countries, her arms crossed. She looked more aggravated than she had ever seemed. "I believe they did this on purpose and it wasn't a leak at all... This will get the rebels to storm the capital. There had been numerous rumors and anonymous tips saying that rebels are soon going to rush the capital if they think Sir Jones isn't capable of stopping them. Because, normally, he would just by the sheer fact he was still alive and enforcing the ideals we all believe."

Abigail became quiet when the news reporter's voice filled the small cabin.

"And we've received word that the current state of America, Sir Alfred Jones, has reached the worst possible state. We're going to break this news to you all very carefully, but it seems that he has passed away just a few hours ago. The doctors who worked so diligently on him have stated that they tried their best to help him in his time of need, but regretfully, were not successful. Other nations are being alerted at this time, but those closest to Sir Jones have yet to be reached for statements. As for the condition of our country, we're not sure what will become of it. This is the first time that a nation has passed away. At this time, we'd like to ask that you all give Sir Jones a moment of-"

"TRIED THEIR BEST MY ASS! WHAT A BUNCH OF BULLSHIT! And that was NOT gentle you fucking douches!" Abigail screamed. She almost kicked the television, but Arthur was quick to restrain her. "They should have been more respectful than that! IT'S OUR NATION FOR GOD'S SAKE! And he was so important to all of us! He went out of his way to be with everyone!"

Abigail began to weep as she continued to yell. "Did those assholes have to state it that way? IT HAD NO FEELING! No emotion! No remorse! How could they? How could anyone in the first place want Alfred dead? He was so gentle and sweet and…"

She trailed off as she turned and cried into Arthur's arms. He held her as he thought how her words echoed that of the hundreds of thousands of Americans who probably shared the same views of her. But by now, those people were probably not of the same mind anymore and didn't carry the same ideals. They now had rebellious ideas.

It was odd how history seemed to repeat itself whenever he was around. According to Abigail, there shouldn't be that many Americans who were against the revolution, just as was the same back in the 1700s. Then how was it so few took over so many?

"Please...," Arthur started, his voice soft. "I know exactly how you feel but...you have to stay strong. You are the only one who can really help us..."

Ivan strode up to her, putting a hand on his shoulder. However, he wasn't as gentle as Arthur was. "If it makes you so angry then get up and DO something about it. This isn't the time or the place to cry."

Yao stepped forward quickly as Abigail had spun on her heel, ready to attack Ivan for his rather cold words. He held up his hands and cleared his throat. "Um, excuse me, but could you tell me why you humans call America by his name so casually, aru?"

Abigail looked at Yao, quite caught off guard by his question. But it had worked. She had calmed down enough and Arthur had released her. Ivan stepped back even though he was unphased by her interrupted outburst.

"All the agents have been raised by Sir Jones personally. We're all orphans. Many of us regard him as our own father," Abigail replied. She sighed as she collected herself more and more. "The people all feel, or rather, _should_ feel, so close to Sir Jones that we call him by his human name. Isn't that why you call Sir Jones his human name?"

"I'm afraid you're a little wrong," Arthur said. "We originally gave each other human names to blend in with the humans, but over time, it became a symbol to call another country by their first name depending on how close they are to that country."

"America, however, just calls everyone by their first name," Ivan mumbled. "It's disrespectful."

Abigail thought for a moment. "But do you enjoy being called by these names? I mean…does it make you feel more…human?"

The broadcaster's faint voices mumbled in the background as the countries were forced to confront such a startling question. But before they could reply, there was a noise outside. Abigail was at the door with her gun at the ready in a flash, the other countries following suit.

For a moment there was a deafening silence. In her haste, Abigail had even turned down the television so silence even the voices bringing only bad news. But suddenly, a strange voice speaking a strange language broke the reserve. Abigail replied and instantly relaxed.

The door opened. A boy in his early twenties with messy blond hair and dull blue eyes entered the cabin. His smile turned from one country to the next until it landed on Yao.

"_Nihao_!" the boy exclaimed.

Yao blinked in surprise and confusion, but automatically responded. "_Nihao_. You speak Mandarin?"

"_Shi_!" the boy's enthusiasm only grew.

"This is Jeff." Abigail nodded to the blonde. "He's third in command of the agency."

"What happened to the second?" Arthur asked.

Abigail and Jeff's expression grew dark. "He betrayed us…"

"You mean Tom was an agent?" Ivan snarled. He gripped his water pipe at the memory of Tom.

"He was," Jeff started, crossing his arms. He turned the television up a bit in volume. "But that's old news. I have some new news from the capital."

The countries turned in anticipation. A capital may not have physically been a country's heart, but it may as well have been. It was where the country spent the majority of his time and Alfred was no exception. Almost every nation took the greatest of pride in their capital, lavishing a lot of their free time and tender loving care on the city.

"The rebels have taken the entire city." Jeff moved aside so the television was in full view. The images depicted a dark scene with cars on fire and buildings destroyed. The camera spanned over to the White House and then to Capitol Hill. "The politicians didn't stand a chance… The city's fallen and with it so has America."

Flying freely before the White House was the unmistakable symbol of everything America hated. A black flag waved in the wind.

* * *

_Hoshiko2_'s cents: Hope you enjoy this week's update. _Tatemae_ will soon be ending, but there will be another side story. This time, it'll be from Russia's point of view.  
I also hope you all understand why I use human names or, at least, are starting to be able to understand.

See you next week!


	6. Chapter 6

It was a long night; a night with one less country in the world. It was a strange and alien idea to Matt and kept him awake at night. He was already so weak and tired from the chase earlier that day, but he was under too much stress to even close his eyes. He was gone, his brother, his annoying, obnoxious, over bearing big brother. The same one who was the only guy to constantly have his back. He was no longer in this world.

It was too quiet.

"Matt?" The Canadian jumped as he looked over to see Arthur stick his head in the bedroom. It was the middle of the night and yet Arthur looked less ready to sleep than Matt did. "Well thank Mary you're still breathing...I'm going to go gray from all of this stress... Are you feeling better?"

"No…" His voice wobbled in his throat, but he forced it to be calm. "He's gone…"

Arthur winced at Matt's words, the sheer fact of his statement sinking in. He hadn't really thought of Alfred's passing, not listening to any of the news reports or watched as the country burned. He refused to believe that everything Alfred worked for, everything so many citizens died for had been crushed over night. He didn't want to think that he had lost a friend. He didn't want to know the world was still tilted to the left.

"I don't know what to say...I mean..." Arthur's voice caught and he had to look away.

It was then he noticed the room they were in. To anyone else it was just a room with four wooden walls, one window, and one door. A small bed and an accompanying nightstand with a basin sitting on it were the only items in the room. It was cold and empty, save for the two nations sitting in silence. But to Arthur, it held so many memories.

Memories of nights tucking in two small blonde heads begging not to go to sleep so early in the day, cradling a crying boy as he sniffled about a scary dream, and of falling asleep beside two babies that were more like brothers. To sum it up, it felt warm and alive to Arthur. It was anything but a room with four wooden walls, one window, and one door with only a bed. It was Alfred and Matthew's old bedroom they shared.

Matt had noticed the room too. He cleared his voice, making Arthur look back to him. "This… is this...? The old...house…?"

Arthur nodded. "You…remember?"

"Of course." Matt looked at the bed sheet, fondling it between his fingers fondly. "You used to tuck us in here after we played all day or were at our studies. How could I forget?"

Arthur looked away. He could feel the weight sinking in, but he pushed it away. He couldn't think Alfred was dead or that he and the others were sick. That a demonic child with black eyes was hunting him and the other nations down, wanting to kill them. He refused to believe that he, the United Kingdom of England and Northern Ireland was hiding in an abandoned cottage that he used to share with his old colonies for fear of his life.

Because if he did, it would be true.

"I'm sorry." Matt's voice broke the silence and startled Arthur.

"You have nothing to be sorry for," Arthur whispered. He tried to smile reassuringly, but where was his confidence when it had been stripped from him?

"I just... I need my...my brother..." It hit Matt then that in the morning, he wouldn't receive his daily texts from Alfred asking him how the pancakes were, whatever that meant. His heart sped up and a hole formed in his stomach. He started to breathe faster, tearing up. "If he fell... then what's...going to happen to us...? I've never been as strong as Alfred... will I fall too...?

Arthur shook his head. "No...NO I won't let this happen to anyone else! I promise you Matthew...we will get through with this."

"I…I hope so…"

It was morning , but no one had slept. Jeff had been put on first watch, Abby listening in on the radio, while the nations were dismissed to other make shift bedrooms. Ivan didn't trust the agents despite Abby's help in rescuing them. He remained on guard at the window, his pipe twirling in his hands. It was the only way to keep his mind focused on those black eyes and that threat rather than his people rising up against him, possibly trying to take him down. Again.

Yao had constantly gotten up in the middle of the night, complaining that he needed more tea or some rice. The supplies were limited so he had to make do, but he was Chinese. Not just Chinese, but China. He could make rocks taste good with enough spices if he wanted to. Still, it wasn't tea or rice he needed.

Sometime during the early morning, Abby had finally risen from her spot in front of the radio and television. Yao, hovering in the background with a fresh cup of tea, watched her. She had bags under her eyes and looked worse off than he did. But then again, he hadn't just lost his entire country to anarchy either.

"Miss Abigail?" Yao asked. He offered her his cup with a small smile. "I think you should rest, aru."

Abigail took the cup, thanking him. "Two more agents are coming. Once they arrive I will rest."

"You need to be at the top of your game." The two had jumped at Ivan's voice joining them from the hallway. He appeared, eyeing Abigail suspiciously. "You're no good to us if you're sluggish from sleep."

"I'll be fine," Abigail replied sternly. "As an agent, I've been trained to be ready at a moment's notice."

She turned her attention to a country less hostile and smiled. "Sir Wang, would you like anything to eat?"

"Aiyah!" Yao threw a fist in the air, his energy coming from seemingly nowhere. "As if I would let a girl like you cook, aru. You saved our lives back there and have been up all night! I can cook, aru!"

Before Abigail could speak, Jeff's head had poked into the room from the window. "Did I hear food? Oh yes and will China cook?"

"Jeff! Show some respect!" Abigail scolded. "You're talking to The People's Republic of China!"

Jeff blushed, embarrassed. "Sorry, ma'am. Er, Sir China, are you cooking?"

"No, he's a guest," Abigail replied.

"I insist I cook, aru!" Yao protested. He could feel his stress aching to get away if he could just get some more ingredients and cook a real meal. "I can cook a feast!"

Ivan rolled his eyes, no longer interested in this conversation. He wasn't hungry. His mind was racing to formulate a plan since the others were not doing the same.

"Ah, but sir, you're a nation," Abigail started, looking distressed.

"And he's 4000 years old. I think he can handle himself," Jeff interrupted.

Abigail turned, huffing. "But we should treat him with respect!"

There were footsteps, stopping at the door that alerted Ivan. "Then treat him with respect and let him cook, Abby."

The agents and Yao looked over. A man in full black camouflage sporting two large guns on his shoulders and many smaller ones attached to his belt stood in the doorway. He had tanned skin and black hair, his dark eyes scanning the room quickly.

"Way to be on look out, Jefferson," the man mumbled.

Jeff blushed more. "Oh oops…"

"Ben!" Abigail exclaimed. She pushed Ivan's water pipe aside as she approached the new man. "This is another agent, Benjamin. He's our weapon's expert."

"Looks like it," Yao mumbled. He eyed the weapons as Ben began to unpack them from his straps.

"Where's Lee?" Jeff asked. He climbed in through the window, obviously giving up trying to keep his post.

Ben shrugged. "You know him. Probably out there 'roughing it' as always. He'll show up when he wants to."

"Just how many agents are coming?" Ivan asked. He lazily picked up one of Ben's weapons, inspecting it. It wasn't because he was interested, no, it was only to make sure the thing worked correctly, that's all.

"Lee will be the final agent," Abigail replied.

Yao couldn't help but look at the arsenal Ben was still taking off of him. "No one knows of this place, right, aru?"

"Nothing to worry about, sir!" Jeff proclaimed enthusiastically. Yao and Ivan looked at him instantly. His tone. It was so similar to Alfred's. "Only the top agents, Sir Jones, Sir Williams, and Sir Kirkland know of this place. Well, now you guys do too."

Ben looked at Jeff, forcing back a slight smile. "I'm surprised. It's almost six and you are without food?"

Jeff groaned, holding his stomach. "I know! I'm starving!"

"Aiyah!" Yao slapped his hands to his face, suddenly remembering his mission. "I was going to cook, aru!"

"We don't have much food," Abigail started.

"If it's food, I can run out and get some." Jeff was already half way out the window. "The nearest store isn't _that_ far."

Ben moved away from the conversation as Jeff and Yao began to talk food. He changed the station of the television that was silently still playing in the background. Abigail and Ivan took notice, scooting over.

"What's going on out there, Ben?" Abigail asked.

"Not much that we know of," Ben sighed. He ran his hands through his dark curls. "The world didn't take to America's falling very well… There's word that this has actually started alerting other rebels around the world to start attacking the government as well."

"Would those be in countries that are sick?" Ivan asked. He had a sinking feeling that the answer was yes. "If that's true then that would mean this attack on America was a global attack on us all."

"We can't be sure on that yet, sir," Ben started. "Although that was a theory a few of the agents have discussed. However, because China is affected, we can't connect the dots."

"If it were just Democratic nations, we could probably say that much was true." Abigail crossed her arms, thinking. "But Sir Wang is Communist."

"Not only that," Ben started. He stopped at a television channel and stared at the others. "But these countries are not the only ones to be affected."

The television was slowly turned up, attracting Yao and Jeff to hustle over. The scene was off people panicking and police men trying to rope the people in. Some buildings and cars had been smashed. The headline on the bottom was in Hungarian, but all the agents and countries could read it.

_National Isolation._

"As news of America's death as well as the government's upheaval, many countries are starting to pull out of the EU," the news reporter started. "There has been disturbing evidence that other countries, such as Germany and France, are in danger of their government toppling as well while the Russian and British government have gone eerily silent in the past 24 hours. The President and Prime Minister have declared a national isolation as well as a withdrawal from the EU, effective immediately, until things calm down."

"France?"

The group turned to see Arthur slowly walk into the front room. His eyes were red and slightly puffy while his hair was an even worse mess than normal. He looked straight at the television in fear, fear that another of his friends was in danger.

No, he thought, panicked. I lost one, please not another! I finally have friends and they're bloody dying!

"There's no official word yet, sir," Ben said calmly. "But they can't find France at the moment."

"Has an agent been dispatched to him?" Jeff asked warily.

Abigail nodded. "Betty was already on her way two nights ago. She should have made contact with him already and hopefully gotten him to safety."

There was a pregnant pause as the boys looked at Abigail. Then, "You put _Betty_ in charge?"

Abigail blushed slightly and frowned. "Yes? What of it? Her French is impeccable."

Arthur pushed between the others and turned the volume up more. The news cast had switched to show Austria now.

"We've just received frightening news that the Republic of Austria has just threatened war on Hungary unless the President and Prime Minister agree to have our beloved Miss Hungary talk to Mr. Austria. However, both of our countries have been missing since last night and even the government claims to not know where they are."

Abigail panicked. "I didn't think ahead to them and didn't send an agent!"

"Send one now," Ben said sternly.

"At this rate, the virus will spread from France and Germany to Italy and Spain and the rest of Europe," Ivan mumbled. He started thinking quickly. His sisters. The Baltics. "What about Eastern Europe?"

"And Asia?" Yao asked, his voice rising in fear. The tumultuous news from Europe had startled the nation. If Europe was unraveling, Asia couldn't be too far behind, especially if Kiku…

"I'm sorry, but news is surprisingly slow. Most of it is repetitive," Ben explained. "Almost all the news stations are focused on just America, though I'm sure they've moved to Europe's problems now as well. At this point in time, Switzerland, Liechtenstein, Hungary, and Japan have declared national isolationism."

"You mean he's still alive?" Yao asked breathless. His heart skipped as he was thrilled to hear there was a chance Kiku had managed to get out alive. "Japan, I mean."

Ben nodded. "He was shown making a speech that the issues of the world do not affect him or his people and he hasn't been heard about since. That was sometime around two in the morning."

"Two?" Arthur looked over, confused. "That doesn't add up. We arrived here around eight in the evening. Surely Japan couldn't have made it back home in that amount of time and was able to give a speech that quickly…"

Ben shrugged. "Just reporting what I've heard about so far, sir."

Abigail sighed. "Perhaps we should rest and wait for more news to come in. We'll devise a plan while Sir Wang cooks up some food."

Yao nodded, his eyes out of focus. Cooking would take his mind off of Kiku's current state. He had closed back up again. The last time he had done so was because of how depressed he was. Yao had tried to help back then, but Kiku made it abundantly clear he wanted nothing to do with his former brother or any of his other siblings.

Is that why? Yao thought. Are you sad, Kiku…?

Abigail turned and stopped when she saw Arthur. He was growing pale and then suddenly very green. She moved forward, a gentle hand touching his arm. She realized that all of this might be too much for Arthur to take in all at once.

"Sir Kirkland...? Are you all right? You look very ill."

Arthur violently moved away. He tore his eyes from the television, ignoring the stares the humans and countries gave him as he hurriedly excused himself. He rushed to the bathroom, barely able to close the door, before he fell to the floor. He sobbed into his hands but not before he vomited in the toilet. He distantly thought that Alfred must have installed indoor plumbing some time ago. Unfortunately that made him cry harder. He held his arms, shaking as he tried to will himself to stop, mentally saying that a country such as him doesn't cry.

But he didn't know what kind of country he was anymore.

"A-Arthur…?"

The weak voice caused Arthur to snap out of his moment, his tears stopping almost instantaneously. He shivered as he saw a very malnourished looking nation leaning against the wall, his blonde hair falling onto his shoulders like lead weights. His violet eyes were a dull grey.

"Matthew." Arthur collected himself, flushing the toilet casually, as he stood up. "Why are you up? You look awful. Please go and rest."

Matt shook his head, moving to grab for Arthur. "You… You look so sad."

Arthur smiled weakly, a feeble attempt. "No, I just realized I hadn't had anything to eat since the morning of last. I'm a little famished, that's all."

Footsteps were heard approaching them. Arthur wiped any remaining evidence of his episode before greeting the two agents at the door.

"Sir Kirkland?" Abigail called, worried. Jeff was at her side. "Are you all right, sir?"

"Yes, quite all right. I'm sorry for worrying you two."

Abigail regarded Matt standing to her right. "Sir Williams, please go back and lay down."

The two agents tried to shuffle Matt away from Arthur, but he refused to move until Arthur left the bathroom. They managed to get him into the front room, promising food if he sat down to catch his breath. The poor man hadn't gotten any better since Arthur had last seen him. He guessed that he hadn't gotten any sleep and by the looks of things, even a good night's rest wouldn't help revive any color or energy in his body. He was just as defeated as Alfred had been shortly before he passed.

Abigail moved towards the kitchen to get a glass of water leaving Jeff and Ben to handle with the weary Canadian. However, as soon as she had moved away, Matt grabbed Jeff by his arm, squeezing tighter than any mortal could have done so. He growled like some kind of animal and swung the blonde over his head towards the wall.

The three nations watching were caught off guard and hesitated. It was in that instant that Ben and Abigail were in front of Matt, their guns drawn. How Ben had grabbed a gun from the table on the other side of the room was beyond any of the nations, but no one noticed or cared. Matt's sudden change in behavior had them all taking steps back, Ivan pulling out his water pipe for safety measures.

Jeff had turned over so he hit the wall as softly as a cat and then jumped up to the ceiling. In a swift movement while he hung upside down, he pulled out a gun and came down at Matt. When he landed on his shoulders, pointing the gun at his head, Matt snarled and flailed his arms. He spun around, wildly trying to throw the human off of him, but he stayed.

Abigail and Ben moved in, trying to hold down Matt by his arms, but it was the same as when Alfred had tried to break free from his hold. He yelled and cursed, snarling and madly spiraling. The countries were beside themselves in sheer aghast. Not once had Matt ever shown this type of behavior in the history of his existence.

Matt had managed to hurl Jeff from his back. He grabbed a wooden chair, breaking off the leg, and using that as a makeshift bat. He swatted at the agents' guns, but missed horribly. The agents were far too elusive and moved aside with ease. Matt didn't give up. He just swung faster and harder. The countries ducked as Matt almost hit them.

Ivan growled and started to intervene, but Yao stopped him. He was terrified.

"Get the tranquilizers!" someone shouted.

In that next instant, Matt was face down on the floor, but his bat still in his hand. He kicked and screamed, throwing as bad a temper tantrum as Alfred had. Jeff was on his back, holding him down and calling for Abigail and Ben to hurry.

Arthur watched, the world tilting more and more to the left. People and voices blurred. He faintly recalled seeing Abigail slam a needle into Matt's arm, Jeff and Ben trying to keep the crazed nation under control, and Matt's eyes turning black.

"Matthew!" Arthur called. His voice was just as it had been centuries ago; scolding. He glared down at Matt as if he had just broken a vase, something he and his brother had done once or twice when they were still newborn colonies. "Stop this at once!"

And he did as he was told instantly. He looked at Arthur, his eyes returning to dull purple. Jeff and Ben sighed, but didn't move until Matt's body had gone lax underneath them. Abigail moved away with a relieved sigh of her own.

"What was THAT!" Yao exclaimed.

Jeff got up, turning Matt over. He quickly checked his vital signs and nodded. He was still alive. "Have you ever thought about what would happen if you went along with these changes?"

Ivan scoffed. "We have changed multiple times in our lives. It's nothing new."

"But that's why you're sick. You guys are going against what the people want. You're comfortable the way you are now, right?" Jeff asked. He stood up, brushing himself off. "But if you went along with it, your personality would change. Canada is fighting a losing battle with anarchy."

"So that's what that was?" Yao asked. He hadn't realized that he was almost hyperventilating.

"Pretty much," Ben replied.

"But you said that if we went against it, there would be a new nation," Arthur said. "Like…that child…"

The nations all saw a flash of black eyes in their mind and repressed a shudder.

"If Matt is fighting back his virus, then there's a baby nation of him back in Canada?"

"It's possible," Abigail said. "But at this rate, it looks like because of Sir Jones' fall, Sir Williams' baby is weak and Sir Williams will turn in favor of his virus."

It was silent for a few moments before Ivan dared to ask, "How long?"

"By the looks of things… he has only a few hours before he completely turns into an anarchist state…"

* * *

_Hoshiko2_'s cents: A little bit of a shorter chapter this time around. School is heating up (7 classes) and I work daily, so there may be a few times my writing is lack and for that, I apologize. This chapter really wasn't much but a bit of a downtime. The next chapter will bring back a character from a previous chapter, so please look forward to it!  
Also, tomorrow will be a side story of Russia from when he was a child. It's in the timeline of this series, but you don't have to read it if you don't want to (kind of how _Tatemae _was).


	7. Chapter 7

The world was still to the left. It was tilting more and more with each passing hour. The countries thought that maybe the poles of the Earth were reversing. Everything was unraveling too fast as the media made it out to almost as if the world was ending. To some people, it was.

England, Russia, China, and Canada's government had gone eerily silent, almost at the same time America had fallen and the countries' lives were threatened. The countries refused to think that it had anything in connection to that event.

Arthur was convinced this was all a huge prank, some sick joke like Ivan had suggested a few days ago. It was the only way he could keep his nerves intact. He would occasionally look at the door, waiting for Alfred to burst through the door, too loud and too late as always. He'd sputter on about an apology while the countries threatened war and their hatred, but there would be relief. That much relief that they all desperately wanted.

It wasn't just that Alfred had fallen and the American society was in disarray, but the fact that a child like Alfred Jr. was real and roaming free in the world. There was that constant fear that they would fall next and a child like that would take away their immortal life.

Countries have fallen, been completely destroyed, or taken over by another and vanished with the loss of ethnical identity. It almost happened to Ivan when he was a child. Prussia had been destroyed after WWII when the Allies declared his death. And centuries before that, the Holy Roman Empire had vanished off the Earth like Rome; a bloody end to a glorious life.

Countries never died peacefully in their sleep.

Suddenly, the three agents were at the door, their weapons drawn. The countries were caught off guard, not sure what was happening until there was the faint sound of a car approaching. Ivan turned off the televisions and radios, Yao following suit with the lights. Arthur joined the agents with a gun he had swiped from the table at the ready.

Abigail held up a hand, signaling for the others to wait. She tidied her extremely messy bun sitting atop her head and pulled out her fake glasses. She hid her gun behind her back in her pants, folding her shirt over the handle, and calmly walked outside. Ben and Jeff watched her back, protecting her from the shadows.

Outside sat an idling black van. It looked just like the one all the countries had been stuffed into by the ever enjoyable Tom. The windows were tinted making it impossible for Abigail to see inside. She was tense, ready to jump into action, but kept a clam and sweet smile on her face as she stopped at the top of the porch steps.

"Hello!" she called to the van. "This is private property and you're trespassing! Please leave!"

When no one got out of the van and it made no indication that it was leaving, Abigail called out to it again. "Hello? Can you hear me?"

The van's door suddenly opened. Ben and Jeff took aim at whoever was coming out. Arthur peeked out of the window, his finger waiting to pull the trigger. Ivan and Yao were waiting as well, just wanting to take out their frustration on anything they could.

Abigail smiled and pulled out the gun from behind her. Her tone dripped of hatred. "To what do we owe the pleasure, _agent_ Tom?"

"I come bearing a gift," Tom replied simply. He was still in the same suit as before, his mean eyes staring at Abigail. He glanced to her sides as Jeff and Ben appeared next to her, their weapons drawn. "Hello Thomas and Benjamin."

Abigail smirked, her eyes narrowing. "No doubt it has a tracking device on it?"

Tom shook his head. "Sir Alfred Jr. wanted to dispose of it, but I thought it'd be best to return it to you.

Just then, Arthur stomped out onto the porch. Abigail had to grab his shoulder to prevent him from stepping down; almost like the porch was the only safe ground and the ground would bring swallow the Englishman up.

He snarled, his gun taking aim at Tom. "Get off of my property you bastard!"

"That's not very nice," Tom said.

"It's not nice when you're betrayed either." Ivan joined Arthur on the porch. Poor Abigail now had two countries to hold back from the deadly patch of dirt below them.

"Well then you'll quite like my present. You might be overjoyed to see him." Tom headed for the back of his van.

"Him?" all the countries repeated. Hope returned to them as they thought of just who it could possibly be.

Jeff ran down to follow Tom, stopping him at the door. The gun was pointed at Tom's temple.

"Maybe you'd like to get it instead?"

Jeff smiled. "No. You go first. God knows what'll happen when the door opens."

Tom shrugged, opening the doors. He gestured inside for Jeff to look in. Jeff studied Tom for a tense moment before glancing in. He did a double take and then shoved the gun into Tom's chest.

"What kind of joke is this?"

"I thought you'd be happy to see him back," Tom said calmly. He stepped away slightly.

"What's the catch...?"

"No catch." When Jeff pushed the gun into Tom's face, the man remained calm. "Honest. It's not like you can do anything with him, though."

Jeff shoved Tom aside. He looked over at the countries and agents waiting in anticipation. "Abby! It's America!"

Ivan headed over, taking long strides and his pipe ready in one hand. Abigail was faster as she ran over to Jeff's side, reaching the duo first. Ben remained on the porch, watching the other two countries rush over to the van.

Upon reaching the van, Arthur pushed aside everyone to see if it was true. His heart stuttered as he saw his body lying on the floor. His limp blonde hair was a mess around his face, his glasses skewed, and the light still gone from his skin.

"America!" Yao exclaimed.

Yao and Arthur quickly scrambled to get to his body. Ivan, however, wasn't convinced. He turned to Tom, his grip tightening on his pipe. He refused to be betrayed again by this human.

"Why?" he growled.

Tom smiled slowly. "What does it matter? There's nothing you can with him and now you're going to be slowed down with dragging him around. I doubt you'll turn him away, though."

Ivan smiled his cold sneer. He picked Tom up by the back of his collar and shuffled him roughly towards the van's still open car door. "That's enough from you!" he said cheerfully. "Now go before I shoot you."

With one last chuckle from Ivan, the door slammed close. Arthur and Yao worked together and hastily carried Alfred into the house. Ben moved aside, but kept his aim trained on the van. Abigail and Jeff watched until the van was out of sight, ignoring as Ivan continued to chuckle behind them.

Ivan then followed the others inside as he heard Abigail start shouting into her walkie-talkie. She was using that strange language again, Ivan thought. He felt so helpless as he watched Yao and Arthur put Alfred on the bed. He began to twirl his pipe out of nervousness. When he heard movement behind him, he jumped only to see it was Matt.

"Al…?" Matt whispered, his voice much more quiet than before. He gasped, running to join his brother at his side. "Al?"

"He's still out," Arthur said. He refused to say he was dead.

The agents eventually joined the countries, but said nothing. Ivan and Yao hovered in the back while Arthur and Matt stood by Alfred's body. One of the agents had brought up the radio, turning it on low as background noise and to keep track of any recent developments. So far it was still the same; utter chaos and recap of what happened since yesterday.

"I have a plan," Abigail suddenly said, breaking the tension. The countries turned to regard her, as did the two agents. "It's not perfect, but I think the countries should return home, at least to meet with their government and possibly put an end to the madness. It's just getting out of hand. An agent should accompany the country that way they can help hunt to see if there's a child like Alfred Jr. lurking around in."

"I say no," Ben said quickly. "They're hundreds of years old and they know what they're doing."

"But do they know where to start looking?" Abigail asked.

"It's their home. For crying out loud, China's been alive for over 4000 years. I think he knows his own home." Ben was stern and looked his superior down.

Abigail looked right back in stubborn defiance. "But in the state they're all in I think it would be best to have a body guard, not to mention an extra set of eyes in the search."

Ben threw his hands in the air. "For God's sake, Abby, stop babysitting them. I know you're protective because of America, but they're not babies."

"I'm NOT babysitting them!" Abigail shouted, blushing in embarrassment at one of her own for arguing with her. "I'm trying to help them!"

"Jesus, you guys could wake the dead...," Jeff said nervously. He hated that he was standing in the middle of the two fighting agents. "Although in this case, it might not be so bad. Maybe it'll wake America up."

Ivan cut in, "Then help us by staying out of our way. I can't speak for the others, but I am quite fine fending for myself. I've had _excellent_ practice the past several centuries."

"Then tell me, just where do you plan to start looking for your child counterpart?" Abigail asked, regarding Ivan.

Ivan paused for a few moments. He didn't look put off by Abigail's question, but he was still thinking of what exactly he should say. "And why should I tell you? Forgive me, but you _are_ an American. It wouldn't be proper for me to lay out my government's plans. All you need to know is that demon child _will_ die, and it will be at _my_ hand."

"All bark and no bite. How typical," Ben snorted from the side.

Ignoring Ben, Abigail pressed on. "I may be an American, but I'm someone who knows what to look for and where to start. And it's not as if I'm going to run and tell the world. I don't officially work for the government, you know. I'm not even alive in this country."

"Oh, that makes me feel infinitely better."

"Excuse me," Arthur said sternly. Abigail and Ivan turned to look at the European. He was not smiling and his eyes were dangerously about to cry. "A dear friend of mine is lying… unconsciously in this room and you two have the _balls_ to argue?"

"England's right. Lay off you two," Jeff said. He looked at Ben. "You too."

The three moved away from each other; Abigail towards Alfred, Ben to the window, and Ivan towards the door. They refused to say another word and it was once again, tense. Jeff and Arthur sighed, looking at each other and shrugging.

"What do you think, England? China? Canada?" Jeff asked.

"About an agent going back home with us?" Yao confirmed. Jeff nodded. "I think it would be helpful, aru."

"It couldn't hurt," Matt mumbled. His eyes were so focused on Alfred's cold body, willing him to wake back up. It was the only thing keeping his mind off of the growing ache in his head.

Ever since last night, Matt started to see visions. They were all so dark. People demanding change, hating to be underneath America, to have their corporations constantly bought out by Alfred's companies, to be ignored through-out the world. He was wandering down the wrong road and could feel himself getting closer to what Alfred Jr. was. The black eyes that had haunted him since yesterday.

Suddenly, there was a rumbling from outside. The agents vanished from the room instantly and the countries grew nervous. Arthur moved to the window, looking outside to see someone on a motorcycle pull up in front of the house. Judging from the way Jeff rushed outside and high-fived the man, Arthur relaxed instantly.

"It's another agent," Arthur explained, catching Ivan by the arm before he ran outside. "What should we do about America?"

"What can we do you mean, aru?" Yao asked. "At this point, there's nothing much we can do."

Matt slowly lifted his head. "But…that girl… she said the people need to believe in him… The people have to believe in us… Isn't that how it's always been…? We were created by the people."

"Yes, that's quite right," Arthur said, putting a hand on Matt's shoulder. "But I don't think four Americans will wake America up or set everything right as rain."

"He has a point." The countries looked over in surprise at the new voice coming from the doorway. It belonged to a man with red hair pulled back in a short ponytail and a face covered in freckles. "But, when you think of how an idea always starts with just one, we're already higher in the numbers."

Abigail appeared at his side, smiling. "This is agent Lee. He's a scientist, but also a doctor."

"Should we call him Dr. Lee, aru?" Yao asked.

Lee laughed nervously, shaking his head. "That's all right, Sir China."

"Lee knows ancient Native American techniques!" Jeff exclaimed, suddenly popping up beside the red head. "America himself taught him these really old spells."

"Spells?" Arthur wrinkled his nose in confusion and furrowed his eyebrows. "Alfred has told me he doesn't believe in magic and he's never seen any of my magical friends."

"Yeah well that's the difference between real and fake magic," Jeff mocked.

Lee passed by the bickering two, joining Matt by Alfred's beside. He pulled out a few bottles and jaws filled with colorful powders and sloshing liquids of questionable sorts. Matt raised his eyebrow, looking at the agent.

"What will those do?" Matt asked.

"These?" Lee nodded at the bottles. He smirked. "Soda."

"Can you help him?" Arthur asked; his calmness returning after a few coughs to compose himself.

"Medicine can't help him," Lee started. He turned to smile at Arthur. "But I can bring him back temporarily so we can help him along."

"With your magic, aru?" Yao was excited at seeing real magic. He too didn't believe in magic, but the humans claimed it was true. Not only that, but it was the possibility of hope.

Hope that there was a chance to beat all of this insanity.

Lee laughed and nodded. "But it'll take awhile. Maybe you should all eat. I can hear Jeff's stomach from outside."

Yao shot up, remembering his duty, long forgotten. He and the blonde raced from the room, Abigail and Arthur laughing, and Ivan shaking his head out of annoyance. Lee moved everyone out of the room claiming he needed some time alone. The others returned to down the hallway, rejoining the television and radio in its incessant outbreak of bad news.

The group of humans and countries decided to turn to food instead while they waited anxiously for any sign of good news.

* * *

_Hair was pulled up and flowers gone, Elizaveta now wore the outfit of her military. It had been years since she'd even bothered looking at something so... masculine. But these were strange times. Finishing the top button she jerked on her collar with a satisfied nod and, with a nod to her own reflection, turned on polished heels to head out the door. But as she opened it she found a very distressed looking Roderich at her door. _

_His normal calm and composed appearance had been significantly disheveled. Most notably, his curl was badly damaged._

"_Roderich?" Elizaveta exclaimed in surprise. She stumbled back, mindful of her boots. "What's wrong?"_

"_It's a more of a question of what isn't wrong..." He laughed and rubbed at his eyes before taking her hand and pulling her to his chest. "To see you like this hurts me more than you can realize... but... I think we should join up. Be the nation we once were, you and I - Austria and Hungary!"_

_Elizaveta titled her head. "Roderich... You're acting strange? Are you feeling well?"_

"_I'm feeling fine!" But his voice wavered and he sounded slightly crazed. Elizaveta's heart shivered at the tone in his voice. "Dandy even...! But you... you should have never left me! And I will have you! I will have you!"_

_Suddenly, Roderich pulled out a knife and descended on Elizaveth with a snarl. Elizaveta didn't hesitate, she had been beside Gilbert in too many battles to act any different. She grabbed his wrist with one hand and the knife with the other._

"_Roderich! Snap out of it! Please! It's me! PLEASE! I'm not your enemy!"_

_But he was out of it, too far gone. She used her free hand to find something behind her which happened to be a leather-bound book and with all her might swung it at his head. There was a resounding _smack_ and the normally put together statesman crumbled to the floor, the knife bouncing from his hand. She held the book to her chest as she backed away from his body._

_Then, a little boy's voice called out from behind the open door. "You're next... You're all going to die... You'll see... You'll see..."_

_A little girl's voice echoed the boy's from all sides of Elizaveta." He's always right… You should learn that now... while you're whole..."_

_Elizaveta watched as the children vanished from her vision and she screamed._

_

* * *

_"You guys!" Jeff exclaimed.

The group looked up from their dinner. There wasn't enough room in the cabin for everyone to sit comfortably, so they had agreed to eat outside. The refreshing chill of the crisp December air mixed with the sunset helped calm everyone's nerves. It was nice to know that the sun still set like always and that it wasn't chaotic and wrong.

"What is it Jeff?" Abigail was already getting up.

"You have to come and see what's on the television!" Jeff's head vanished back inside the house.

The group hurried inside, all hearts racing with fear. However, the television didn't bring bad news like they had expected. Instead, hundreds of people were shown standing together in huddles with candles and tears. They were singing America's national anthem, praying and crying, remembering and believing. Gratefully, the news was silent.

"What's going on, aru?" Yao asked. He was breathless, but relieved that it wasn't any bad news.

"They're praying and singing in memory of America," Ben mumbled. His mouth twitched, almost to smile.

"How…loyal…," Ivan said in a mocking tone. He wasn't impressed. If they were so sad and upset, why was Alfred still upstairs unconscious? He turned and looked at the smiling Abigail. "This plan of yours… I'm…okay with it."

Abigail was surprised, but nodded. "_Ya pannimayu. _We'll formulate who goes with whom tonight and by morning have a definite plan of the next movement. We'll move out by morning."

And the world tilted just a little more back to the right.

* * *

_Hoshiko2_'s cents: First of all, I'd like to clarify something a reviewer of mine pointed out. I had originally put AJ eye color as red and then changed it to black. When I originally wrote this series, his eyes were red, but later I changed it. I missed that when I rewrote the chapters, so I went back and changed it. Just to make sure you all understand, AJ has black eyes that flash red.  
Second of all: I have a Formspring! See here: .me/hoshiko2 Please stop by and ask me questions about my series (any of them) or anything else. I'll be happy to answer any of your questions.  
Third: The Russia side story I promised wasn't finished on time last week, but it will be up tomorrow.  
And finally: Thanks to everyone for your reviews and favs and alerts. They mean a lot to me and probe me forward with my writing. For those who don't leave a comment, thank you too. I know you read them. You can leaver the shortest review ever: :D. Works for me! XD

See ya next week!


	8. Chapter 8

The candles, the singing, the mourning. It all amounted to nothing in the eyes of the nations. Especially one nation.

He didn't care that the American people were finally seeing their loss or that Europe was in internal conflict. He cared that Matt had become a violent creature right before his eyes. He was such a kind and gentle person by nature, it was disturbing to see that drastic of a change.

During the entire ordeal, Yao had remained perfectly immobile and useless. The only thing that he could see was another Asian slipping out of sanity and attacking innocent humans. The boy would use a sword of the finest craftsmanship, slicing so effortlessly, before turning his attention on Yao.

Would he strike again?

Yao shuddered at the thought, but had to ask someone. He felt his own sanity being threatened as well.

"Agent Abigail," Yao started tentatively. The girl turned to regard Yao with a smile. "What happened to Canada… Can that… affect others as well, aru?"

Abigail nodded solemnly. "You all have the disease. If you can't control yourself, it might happen."

"So… This is going to happen to Japan…" Yao's voice trailed off as he imagined Kiku again. Yao's back began to burn right along where Kiku had scared him so many years ago. He lightly touched it, but didn't show his inner wince. "What happened to Canada can…"

Abigail sighed, her smile gone. She was thinking of just how to explain such a delicate matter to Yao, but how did a human explain to a country like China that one of his longest known countries, one whom he used to be extremely close to, might turn into something akin to a savage dog. "Well sir… I wouldn't say he'd have a reaction exactly to Sir Williams because of their different forms of government, however… If he can't control his inner feelings, then…he just might."

Yao could only image the inner turmoil Kiku was feeling. "He always holds things in, aru… He never tells anyone anything. He kept everyone at such a distance, even America and England, aru. I thought I knew him, but…"

There was a hand on Yao's shoulder suddenly. He looked behind to Jeff's reassuring smile. "Don't worry, sir. You do know him, probably better than any other country. If there's a way to help Japan, you'll know it."

He was still very troubled by the state of things, but these humans had hope and through that hope he could feel his heart grow just a little stronger. It was able to push back against the troubles sitting on him, just a little."It's not every day I'm moved by a human's words, aru," Yao said, smiling slightly.

* * *

_Elizaveta's screams echoed throughout the exquisite mansion. Within seconds, her own guards had appeared and apprehended Roderich, still struggling to capture the girl in his hands. It was too much for the Hungarian nation to watch her most beloved being taken away in handcuffs. He was always so calm, collected, and now he was reduced to being treated like a petty criminal._

_The captain of the guard, Elizaveta's most trusted man, appeared by her side. He gave a quick salute before addressing her. "Ma'am, are you harmed?"_

"_No Almos, I'm fine. Just a bit shaken up..." He looked satisfied with her answer, but she grabbed his arm and about shook the man. "Children! Did you see two children when you came in here? About the age of 5? A little boy and girl? Did you see them?"_

_Almos was startled by her actions; so different than normal. "N-no ma'am... There were children here?"_

"_I saw them! I know I did..." She bit her thumb as she saw the wary eyes the guards were giving her. She went to the window and looked out. "Keep an eye out for anything suspicious... even the children... Even the children..."_

_Almos looked to his men, but said nothing about her distraction. "We will ma'am... If you'll excuse us..."

* * *

_

It was early in the morning. Ben had become a permanent resident in front of the radio and television, constantly changing them while dissembling a gun, only to assemble it again seconds later. Jeff had been graciously removed from look out and was to tend to Matt instead. Abigail took to watching the premises.

She walked around the corner of the cabin, finding herself now in the ongoing backyard that led into the forest. She spotted Arthur. He was smoking and looking out at the same forest, lost in memories.

"Sir?" Abigail asked quietly. She tentatively approached him. "I didn't know you still smoked."

"Neither does America," Arthur replied, blowing smoke from his mouth. "I try not to, but I think the situation called for it."

He glanced at the window where Lee was still hard at work to revive Alfred. He wanted to be in there, to oversee he was doing everything right, but he didn't want to interfere and have everything messed up. Abigail didn't need to look at where he was looking or hear him express his concern for his friend, she knew.

"Don't worry, sir. Lee is a specialist and I'm sure-"

Arthur held up a hand, his cigarette held between his middle and index finger. "Please. I don't need to hear anything. It's better to just not dwell on it than to hear false hope."

"It's not false, sir," Abigail started. "Humans will always have faith in their country. It's part of why we were born."

Arthur stared at the blonde American before turning to look at the forest. The morning fog was still drifting around them, wrapping them in a silent fantasy world. Here, it was as if time had stopped. The sun should have been up, but it could barely be seen through the heavy fog. There were no noises from the forest and even the wind had been muted. Arthur thought that perhaps the entire Northern continent was taking a moment of silence; either that or holding its breath.

Suddenly, the backdoor opened. Abigail turned and saw Jeff running up to them.

"He's awake!"

Arthur dropped his cigarette. He wasted no time as he rushed inside, leaving behind the humans. He didn't care. There were no humans now. Just him and that hope he refused to accept that had been in his heart all along.

Matt was already in the bedroom, sitting on a chair next to Alfred's bed. The strong smell of incense candles filled the room as Lee moved to extinguish each one. Ivan and Yao had come in after Arthur, but stayed closer to the door. Arthur moved to the other side, opposite of Matt. He glanced at the bedside table. There are the few things that were pulled from Alfred's pockets; his blackberry, a few coins, a receipt from McDonald's a few weeks back, and his fake ID. The blackberry was still on and buzzed on the wooden tabletop. Matt ignored it as he continued to stare at his twin.

Lee moved near Matt, leaning over Alfred. "America? Sir? Can you hear me?"

They all stood, hoping that...that a spark of life would flow through his pale skin once again. Someone whispered, "Al...Alfred...?"

The absolute stillness in the room is broken by a small gasp as Alfred's chest rises with the smallest of inhales. His eyes slowly ever so slightly, the foggiest of blue looking through slits at everyone.

"I'm hungry…"

Jeff cheered as Matt and Abigail began to tear up. Arthur could feel his eyes stinging, but thought that it was from the cigarette from earlier and not the overwhelming joy coming from inside of him.

"America? Is it really you, aru? Are you really alive, aru?" Yao could hear his voice rising in excitement. This meant that there was a chance everyone could come back.

Ivan was skeptical, but his mouth was open. He stared at the scene before him, his heart hammering, and his mind full of denial. It couldn't be true, he thought. America had not just awoken from the dead. It was something that came from England's fairytales or America's stupid movies or even one of my own vodka induced dreams. Ivan reached into his coat as he fell back against the wall. He desperately needed vodka.

Alfred turned to look at Arthur. He didn't seem to even know who it was as his eyes looked out of focus. Arthur, however, didn't care. Those eyes were open and color was slowly returning to his thin face. "You scared the bloody hell out of me you know...You're only so lucky...I will forgive you this time."

"Ar...my...eh...," Alfred mumbled. His eyes rolled into the back of his head.

"He may be conscious, but he can slip back out of it at any moment. I need to make some medicine," Lee said. He began to pound some herbs and leaves into a medicinal bowl slowly.

Abigail stood over Alfred's bed with large eyes. "S-Sir Jones!"

Alfred's eyes slowly opened and moved to Abigail. "A…A…"

Abigail let a tear fall, but composed herself quickly. She saluted Alfred with a smile. "Such a relief to see you, sir!"

Jeff and Ben joined Abigail by her side and saluted Alfred a well. While Jeff had a smile so wide it looked as if his jaw might break, Ben was giving the smallest of smiles; as if he were trying to keep his joy a secret. But who wouldn't be overjoyed to see their country come back from the dead?

"We're here for ya, sir!" Jeff proudly exclaimed.

"Always at your side, sir," Ben added.

Alfred then turned his attention to the sobbing blonde beside him. He recognized him. "Ma…"

Matt, relieved that he was seen, snapped his head up. "YOU STUPID IDIOT! We were SO worried for you!"

Alfred winced. "…orry…"

"You big idiot." Matt fell upon his brother, crying in such relief.

Lee came over and gently pulled Matt away. "Here you go, Sir." He was holding a bowl with green liquid. He lifted Alfred's head up and poured some of the medicine into his mouth. "This will help you some."

Alfred thanked him and started trying to sit up. Arthur only pushed him back down. His expression was an old one he would use when his colonies were acting up, and yet, it was much gentler than it had ever been. "Don't be stupid, you git. What do you need?"

"My phone," Alfred replied, smiling slowly.

Arthur reached for the phone automatically, but stopped. "What do you need your phone for?"

"I need to…text someone…" Arthur handed him the phone, but was still cautious. His phone had been taken because it might have been easy to trace, so why not Alfred's too? "Holy shit…over 3000 e-mails from yesterday alone…"

"You became popular overnight," Matt chuckled.

Abigail started for the phone, forgetting to have taken it from him when Tom had dropped him off. It was almost certain that they could be found now if Tom hadn't already implanted a tracking device. "Ah Sir, I'm sure the e-mails can wait…"

Alfred brushed her off. "No. I need to…text George."

Jeff suddenly burst into even more joy. "No way! George is coming here? All right!"

Ben, however, wasn't impressed. "Ah, Sir, should we really rely on that old man?"

"I'm old and you rely on me," Alfred replied without missing a beat. He was focused on texting.

Yao raised an eyebrow and looked at Ivan. They both were in disbelief Alfred even had the nerve to call himself old. Ivan smirked as Yao chuckled to himself. "Um, who is George, aru?"

"He was an old member that was here before us. He was a dear member of Sir Jones," Abigail replied.

Arthur looked to Yao with a raised eyebrow. "Wow. I can't believe you didn't know who he was. I suppose it wouldn't have been that important for you to know though..."

Yao paused as he thought. There was only one George that struck home with his thoughts. "You don't mean THAT George, aru?"

"You mean you guys DO know of him!" Jeff said eagerly.

Yao shot him a look, putting his hands on his hips. "Of course I do, aru! Unlike America, I know everyone's history, aru!"

It took Jeff a moment to catch up with Yao's train of thoughts. He then laughed loudly. "Not THAT George!"

"He was an old member that worked alongside Sir Jones from the Cold War until the end of the 90s," Ben explained quickly. He glared at Jeff.

Realization dawned on Yao. He was embarrassed from Jeff laughing at him for even thinking that _that_ George had come back to life. So it was possible for Lee to bring back someone only a few days dead, but not one hundreds of years dead. "I...wasn't really wasn't a part of that war, aru. I merely watched aru."

Ivan racked his memories for a human named George that was beside Alfred during those tense times. His memory was the best during that incident, but he couldn't remember anyone. This bothered him greatly.

Alfred sighed and dropped hand hard into the bed, exhausted from just texting. "He's...on his way…"

"Should I make you anything, Sir?" Abigail offered. After Alfred had given a short order, all of the agents left.

It was then that Alfred noticed someone was missing. "Hey… Where's Kiku?"

The nations were awkwardly silent. Alfred looked from one to the other, hoping to be able to read their expressions and understand the situation. However, he was never good at it in the first place, plus he was still woozy. There was no chance he could even begin to try to figure anything out.

"Where is he?" he asked, his panic rising. He had no idea of the world nor of its current state.

It was then that Ivan left. He could no longer take seeing Alfred in such a state and he especially couldn't be reminded of what had happened to them back at the laboratory. There was no vodka in his coat and none to be found in the cabin. He was furious as he paced around in the hallway and then finally moved outside.

The fog had slowly begun to lift itself away from the ground. A little bit of the sunlight was poking through, but Ivan could care less. He ignored all of the surrounding beauty because his mind was utter chaos. He could feel so much bloodshed and confusion happening back in Russia, but because of how far away he was, he couldn't grasp it to the fullest extent.

A noise startled the nation. He erased all signs that he was in distress as an old man with a cane hobbled up to the cabin.

"Ah, are we lost?" Ivan asked with a cold smile.

The man chuckled and proceeded to speak in perfect fluent Russian. "I think not old comrade, but even if I were to somehow show you proof I mean no harm, you wouldn't let me in, would you?"

Ivan was stunned the man was so good with his words that he automatically switched back to Russian as well. "And how did you come to know Russian?"

Again, the man chuckled. "Because I used to work alongside Alfred during the Cold War as his personal agent."

"_Eta pravda_?"Ivan narrowed his eyes dangerously. He didn't remember the man, but he figured this man was probably the "George" Alfred had texted.

"I'm surprised you don't remember me, old comrade," the man said.

"I only remember those who are necessary...comrade."

The old man tapped his cane on the ground twice while smiling. "No need to be so stiff with me. My name's George. I was personally invited here by Alfred. I have a cell phone message to prove it if you want."

"Message's are very easy to fake, comrade, but you know that already, _da_," Ivan said, crossing his arms.

"I figured you'd say that," George chuckled. "Why don't you go ahead and ask the little brat yourself? If he's well enough to text me, then he's well enough to let me in. Although, I'm amazed you're even still here. Why haven't you left yet? Normally you'd never be around Alfred this long without some reason."

"Curiosity. I'm running a bet with myself on just how long this circus will last."

Ben suddenly appeared at the porch. "Ah, I thought I heard a foggy old goat somewhere around here."

George's eyes flickered up, his smirk erased. He returned to English effortlessly. "Ah...Benjamin. Still got that stick up your ass, huh?"

Ivan smirked and thought that maybe he could like the old man. But only maybe.

"Where's that brat? He better have a good excuse for getting me up," George grumbled.

"You're not happy to know he's not dead?" Ben asked, slightly annoyed. He glared down at George.

George started walking up onto the porch. He laughed once loudly. "Hah! Like that kid could go down from "economic problems" or some bull shit the media said. People gotta have more faith."

The agents met George and quickly showed him to where Alfred and the other nations were. Upon entering, Arthur immediately remembered the old man. He had met him quite a few times when he and Alfred were together during the Cold War. George wasn't the best person to work alongside, but Alfred loved him dearly so Arthur had put him up with him.

"Arthur, you old bastard!" George exclaimed as he walked in. "It's good to see you're still kicking and not being a lazy bum like Alfred here."

Yup, it's still George, Arthur thought with a roll of his eyes. "Of all the things you can think of saying after all this time you chose those words? Brilliant."

"Of course," George said with a small smile. He approached Alfred and clicked his tongue against his teeth in disapproval. "Wow, how the mighty have fallen huh? So tell me what your plan is."

"First, where's Kiku?" Alfred demanded. Color was returning faster now and his eyes were starting to glow with adrenaline.

George spun to look at the nations. "You haven't told him?"

"Well, we have no idea what's going on, aru," Yao replied. Sure he knew that Kiku had made it safely back home and closed up out of protection, but anything else was still unknown.

"You mean you haven't heard?" George moved over to the silent radio that had been brought in yesterday. He turned it on, fiddling with the old dials. "I take it Europe's been your main focus…"

"-rd that Japan has just announced his decision to kick all foreigners out of the country and isolate himself from the world again, falling back on the emperor," came the voice of a news anchor.

"Wh-what?" Alfred shrieked. He started to sit up, but Arthur pushed him back down again.

"This was the statement Japan released not too long ago," the reported continued.

Kiku's voice suddenly filled the bedroom. There was an echo of people cheering in the background as he shouted over a microphone. "THE TIME HAS COME TO PUSH ALL WESTERN INFLUENCE OUT OF OUR BELOVED AND SACRED LAND! WE WILL NO LONGER BE RULED BY TECHNOLOGY AND FOREIGN INFLUENCE! WE ARE A STRONG PEOPLE OF DEMI-GODS AND RULED BY A GOD! WE WILL NO LONGER RELY ON ANYONE BUT OURSELVES! ALL PORTS WILL BE CLOSED, ALL FOREIGNERS KICKED OUT, AND EVEN THOSE MARRIED INTO SOCIETY WILL BE FORCED TO LEAVE! I WILL NOT HAVE MY LAND BE DELUDED BY FOREIGNERS ANY MORE!"

Yao was the first to speak as the cheering from the crowd silenced everyone into shock. "Kiku you idiot! Just look at what happened to you the _last_ time you did that, aru!"

The news reporter interrupted any more that Kiku had to say. "Alfred Jr., the new America, has demanded that all military personal leave the country of Japan giving Japan the ability to start building up his own military once again. The armies were assembled almost overnight and are still rapidly-"

"Alfred…Jr.?" What little color had returned to Alfred was all gone instantly. He fell back into the bed in shock. "I've been…replaced…?"

George took one look at Alfred before smacked him over the head with his cane. The nations jumped back in surprise, all of them amazed a human had acted in such a way to their own country. "Don't go down the pity party road, Alfred. We need your head on straight. We need all of your heads on straight."

"First evil baby nations, Japan closing up… What else is next?" Arthur exclaimed.

George changed the radio station once more, but was suddenly struck against the face. He fell on the floor, but lashed back with his cane, not caring who he hit. Alfred shouted in panic as Matt was suddenly lunging for his throat. Arthur and Yao had managed to scramble between the two and keep them apart.

"-no words from Canada himself, Parliament and the Prime Minister have declared war on America."

"Matt!" Alfred cried. He watched as his brother's eyes changed from their usual gentle purple to a deep black.

"You! YOU'RE GOING TO DIE!" Matt screamed.

Arthur and Yao threw Matt backwards into the wall where he hit it so hard, his hand went through the wall. The agents all came running with Ivan at their heels. Matt screamed and broke off a piece of the wall, holding it in his hands. He came running at Alfred again, but was overtaken by Arthur and Yao protecting him.

The Canadian squirmed free of their hold. Alfred slipped out of the bed in hopes of helping, but Matt had grabbed him by the arm. The two tumbled around until Alfred kicked Matt up off of his body and out the window. Still, he chased his younger brother.

"Matt!" Alfred called. He jumped out the window, stumbling slightly at how weak his legs were.

"How is he moving so fast?" Ivan asked, rushing to the window.

"It's that medicine," Lee explained quickly. He was pulling more herbs from his pockets. "It's only temporary. Sir Jones won't last long if he keeps this up!"

Arthur rushed outside, stealing a gun that Ben had already drawn. Matt ignored Arthur, his eyes locked on Alfred.

"You! This is all your fault!" Matt snarled.

"Matt, stop! What the hell is going on?" Alfred held his arms out showing he meant no harm, but Matt didn't back down.

"I'll kill you…," Matt growled. He glanced at Arthur before taking off into the forest, heading north.

"MATT! COME BACK! STOP!"

Alfred raced after his brother, his heart pounding. What had happened to his sweet and kind brother? He hadn't seen the previous time he had snapped and had no idea that Canada was now overtaken by anarchy.

However, Arthur did know. He ran alongside Alfred, his gun raised. "I need to get a shot at his head."

"NO! DON'T SHOOT MY BROTHER!" Alfred grabbed the gun, struggling to take it from Arthur.

"Alfred, stop! We need to knock him out before he gets back home!" Arthur argued.

Matt stopped and turned, charging towards the arguing blondes. They didn't see him as he tackled them down into the dirt. Matt wrestled with them, but was focused on trying to hurt Alfred the most.

"I WILL NOT BE CONTROLLED BY YOU ANYMORE! YOU NEVER CARED FOR ME! I HATE YOU!" Matt screeched.

Arthur got a shot off of Matt's shoulder, making the Canadian fall back in pain. He held his bleeding arm, snarling at Arthur. The Englishman was to his feet first, holding the gun at Matt's head now. Without hesitation, he shot again, but Matt was faster. He fell into a squatting position where he scooped up a piece of a fallen branch from a nearby tree that was lying on the ground. In one swift movement, he had come back up and slammed the branch into Arthur's chest. Blood spurt out and the pain seized Arthur's entire body. The branch had struck near his heart.

"ARTHUR!" Alfred screamed. He jumped up, blinking back the darkness that clouded his eyes.

Matt, satisfied as he saw Arthur fall back in defeat, took off running into the forest. In seconds, he was gone.

* * *

_Hoshiko2_'s cents: I based Japan's reactions to the recent problems happening in Japan (such as the desire to change Article 9 of their constitution and the battle with Futenma). I also based Canada's reaction based on something my Canadian friend once ranted to me about (around the time of the Olympics).  
Look forward to two new nations joining the fray next chapter! And if you're worried about too many OCs, don't fret for long about that either.  
If you have any questions, feel free to visit my Formspring! :3  
See you next week!


	9. Chapter 9

Veneciano was bouncing on the balls of his feet as he waited just outside the security check point. On the other side, his blonde and muscular ally, Ludwig, was just finishing being checked before they boarded their personal jet. The two were visiting with their politicians when news of America's sudden fall came to them through a personal agent. Before news broke out to the rest of the world, the two countries decided it would be best to stick together and decide a plan of action.

Not knowing if the news was true or not, Ludwig's High Chancellor agreed that it would be best if the two personally visited the country. Italy's President agreed as well, but said that Lovino, Veneciano's older brother, should remain in the country. Ludwig requested his older brother, Gilbert, and his other relatives remain at home as well, but to not be told where he and Veneciano were going. He didn't want to think that Gilbert would do if he heard about their flight; probably try to come along. It was only hours later they were headed across the ocean.

"Hey, hey, Germany, do you think we can get some pasta before we get on the plane?" Veneciano asked when Ludwig joined him.

"I don't think that would be a good idea," Ludwig grumbled. He stuffed his passport back in his pocket, trying to ignore his imminent headache.

Veneciano's smile wavered. "Oh? Why not?"

"Because we need to keep our guard up, remember? The world is at a critical moment in time."

Veneciano thought for a minute as he walked alongside his longtime friend. "Kind of like the world is having one massive panic attack!"

Ludwig grumbled and wished Veneciano would take the situation seriously, but what did he expect? The man was always this way from as far back as he could remember.

The two were shown to their plane and it wasn't long before they were up in the air. Veneciano was placate with hitting on the stewardesses than whining about his stomach, much to Ludwig's pleasure. However, it would be a long flight.

* * *

_It was all a blur. All the blood and Arthur's screaming mixed with Alfred's calling for help. Matt had long since vanished, but the old Empire was falling to his knees, clinging to his old colony. The humans came running; their faces all faded and the colors dripping away._

_Arthur was hurried to the cabin and Alfred was pulled away by someone's strong arms. They called him by his human name and restrained him to the living room. Lee rushed to aid Arthur's injuries in another room. The nations fretted as to what would happen to Matt, but Alfred was long gone in his thoughts. The medicine was wearing off quickly and he was starting to slump down onto the floor._

_But there was a loud _WHAP_ that made everyone look over. George had hit Alfred over the head with his cane again._

"_Didn't I tell you to keep your head on straight, boy?" George snarled. He looked down at Alfred in disapproval. "Now get up."_

_Alfred wobbled on his legs, panting sharply, before falling to the floor. His shirt was starting to be drenched in his sweat from all the effort. Ivan and Yao watched from the sidelines, awaiting to see if the superpower would get back up._

_George, however, had waited long enough. He picked Alfred up by his collar and began to shake him. "Listen here young man! Don't you DARE act like a little child! You were raised BETTER than that! Now I know you and Arthur have some kind of special... "relationship" or whatever. That's not my department. But if you care so much for him and for the others here then you will NOT put yourself in danger anymore! Look at you! You're such a mess!"_

"_Try standing on your own two feet for once," Ivan growled. Yao looked at him in surprise, but continued to stand frozen. He wasn't sure what to say._

_Alfred fell to his knees, his hands shakily holding him up. Abigail rushes toward Alfred on the floor, but was stopped by George's cane. "Let him do it. He wants to be a big boy he has to get up on his own."_

"_If he even can. He IS a cheeseburger consuming, capitalist idiot," Ivan said, crossing his arms. He ignored the glares the younger agents gave him._

_Alfred was still panting hard, but said nothing. His head was down, his hair covering his eyes. He just listened as the men yelled at him; gave him strength._

"_Get up! Get up right now!" George yelled. He stomped his cane down once. "Show me what you've got! You've cheated death so get up! GET UP! You think you're so great! Then get up!"_

_Alfred snapped head up, glaring at the wall. He started to push himself up, his knees and arms shaking horribly from all the stress. He bit his lip so hard it started to bleed, but he refrains from making any noise. Finally he was able to stand again without grabbing onto anything._

_The agents sighed in relief with George nodding, unsmiling. "That's more like it."_

_Alfred 's chest was heaving, but he turned to glare at Ivan. Yao was startled, thinking he was looking at him for a moment. He moved away from the Slavic nation who's smile was growing colder by the second. Alfred made his way to stand in front of the taller man._

"Da_?" Ivan asked, his smile widening._

_It was tense for a few moments before Alfred suddenly put his head on Ivan's shoulder. The man tensed in surprise._

"_OW! MY KNEES! I FELL ON THEM WAY TOO HARD WHEN I CAME IN!" Alfred exclaimed in dramatic pain._

_Ivan wasn't sure if he should slap Alfred across the face or just push him away. He opted for both simultaneously.

* * *

_

Several hours of air travel and Veneciano's hungry stomach later, the two had arrived in America. Ludwig wondered, however, how much of it was still America and how much had changed during their flight. They both walk up to a big black limo waiting for them at the airport where they landed, that Ludwig had arranged ahead of time. After getting in the car and some comments from Veneciano about how fancy it was, they drove off.

It wasn't long until the car suddenly swerved to the right, jolting the two companions inside against the side of the limo. Ludwig immediately grabbed the door handle, bracing himself. Veneciano flailed about, wailing. Ludwig managed to grab a hold of the Italian and held him down on the seat, barking at him to put the seat belt on and hold on. He looked ahead, but couldn't see the driver.

The car continued to swerve in and out of traffic before it went down a dark alley and pulled into a garage. The car came to a stop, the engine turning off a second later. Everything was so quiet that the silence pounded into the nations' ears. They caught their breath, sitting upright, and looking at their surrounding environment. The garage they were in was too dark to make out any details.

Veneciano cowered next to Ludwig, "_Ve_, we're trapped!"

"Be quiet," Ludwig hissed. He started to pull his gun from his pocket, the only weapon he had been allowed to take along with him.

They heard the driver's door open and their hijacker step around to their door. Ludwig took aim, ready to fire at whomever was about to open the door while Veneciano ducked down to the floor. He was whining and crying, fearful of what was about to happen.

* * *

"_Hey...something's happening on the news," Ben said._

_Alfred rubbed the back of his bruised head as he moved away from Ivan. Yao was first to the radio as he heard mention of the news report coming from Asia._

"_North Korea is seizing this chance now that the respective nations of China and Russia have vanished and their countries are in disarray to declare war on them. Shots have been fired on both borders and word is that the North Korean troops are mobilizing at a rapid pace," the news reporter calmly said._

_Yao gasped, stepping back in shock. "Aiyah! North Korea, aru!" He began pacing the area near the radios, cursing in his respective tongue._

_The agents and two nations watched as Yao fretted. The news kept coming in about North Korea possibly attacking South Korea as well. The two brothers were, technically, now at war, but the southern brother had yet to make a move and defend his so-called "beloved big brother"._

_A hand fell upon Yao's shoulder, causing the Asian to pause. "I'll fight him with you...," Alfred said seriously._

"_Why? This isn't your problem, aru." Yao spun to look at him._

"_Yes it is..." Alfred, despite starting to look so pale and worn out again, continued to talk with strength. "You're my friend...I want to help protect my friends..." He looked over at Ivan, now at war as well. "All of them..."_

_Yao bit his lip. America...a friend, aru, he thought._

"_And just how are you going to help us, your friends?" Ivan asked, trying to control his anger from the news report. It was bad enough his government and people were reacting so badly, but now he was at war with another country. Oh, how they'd pay._

"_Forget about the things in the past... It's all different now... All our policies, all the work we did for our countries...our people... It's all gone..."_

"_But all help isn't lost," Abigail said, stepping forward. She smiled slightly. "I still have that plan…"

* * *

_

The limo door flew open and Alfred's bright and smiling faces popped into Ludwig's line of vision.

"HI GUYS!" he exclaimed, his voice echoing off in the dark garage.

Ludwig pulled his gun back in surprise. "A-America?"

"WAAAH! WE'RE GONNA GET CONTAMINATED!" Veneciano screamed, tears welling up in his eyes. He pointed at Alfred with a shaking finger. "He's a zombie! He's going to bit us and we'll turn into one too!"

"ITALY!" Ludwig shouted. Veneciano effectively shut up and silence returned to the dark area once more. Alfred helped the two out of the limo with his usual cheery smile, but his face looked far too thin.

"Sorry about the rough ride, but George was the one driving. He hasn't driven in years/" Alfred nodded over to the older man being held up by a cane. Alfred then turned and quickly explained that George was a special agent there to help.

"I thought you were ... sick, America. You're looking all right to me, but shouldn't you be recovering somewhere?" Ludwig asked warily. He looked the man over, knowing exactly that there should be more fat and/or muscle on the younger blonde.

"Actually, we thought you were dead!" Veneciano said too casually. Ludwig shot the brunette a glare, but Alfred merely laughed, waving their comments off.

"As if! It's you two that we need to worry about." Alfred flipped on the switch, lighting up the garage. "But, we're gonna keep it a secret that I'm still dead, okay?"

Ludwig stopped Veneciano who looked ready to ask a question. He nodded, "I understand. You will fill us in later on what's going on?"

Alfred pointed at Ludwig, winking. "I sure will! We don't have much time. You can't see the new baby America."

"Why not?" Veneciano asked. "I really wanted to see the baby nation."

"No, he's not…um…" Alfred turned to George for help. George stepped towards a small red button. "He's a demonic brat, to say the least."

"A demonic…brat?" Ludwig repeated in disbelief. Was he really to be scared?

George pressed the button and the floor began to move underneath everyone. Veneciano looked down in amazement. The entire floor was slowly moving downwards, the walls going up around them. Alfred smirked, turning to the two Europeans.

"Cool, huh?" Alfred asked. George and Ludwig rolled their eyes at the same time.

Ludwig felt Veneciano pulling on his sleeve. He turned to look at the Italian. "Hey, hey. Germany. I don't want a demonic bratty baby. …Unless we make pasta together. Hey, America, were you a demonic bratty baby when you were a baby?"

Alfred laughed nervously. "Uh, I didn't hear anything about that from Arthur…"

Ludwig cleared his throat. "Excuse me, are we in danger of being infected? We only know what's going on through what's being said on television. Is any of that true?"

"At this time, we have no reason to believe Italy has been infected yet," George explained. "Although, his prolonged exposure to Germany might have put you in danger... We believe you're infected, Germany."

Ludwig blinked again, his eyes widening. " Infected ... How? I haven't had any contact with you or any of the other infected countries ... It's been a while since I've seen Japan..."

Veneciano wiggled away from Ludwig, afraid. "Germany…"

Ludwig glanced at Veneciano and couldn't help but be nervous as well. It was true that he hadn't been near any other country other than Italy, but could he still get it? He didn't know much, whereas the source seemed to come from America himself, and yet he was alive again. "There's more to this, isn't there? It's not just contagious..."

"Germany visited Austria when he wasn't feeling so well last week though, right? Do you think he could have been contaminated then?" Veneciano quipped up. Ludwig ignored the Italian and paid attention to George, but Alfred looked over in interest.

"I have reason to believe it's because you are the one of the power houses of Europe right now and because of the way things are going in the world, your people are starting to call for a change. A change that you're against that is making you sick," George explained.

"How'd Austria get infected?" Alfred asked.

Veneciano shrugged. "Germany just told me he wasn't feeling so well, but that Hungary was looking after him."

George looked over, interested now as well. The room was close to the bottom of the room. He thought for a moment. "Well...if Austria is working closely to Germany..."

Ludwig thought about it as well. When he saw Roderich, the man didn't seem terribly sick. He just looked more exhausted than normal, but it was to be expected. The EU and most of Europe hadn't been doing too well for a few years now, but the rest of the world was just as bad. "I haven't been anywhere else, if that means much. I'm hoping I haven't caught it and passed it on..."

Ludwig sighed, thinking about Italy and the rest of Europe now. Would he infect Italy or the others? He didn't know what he'd do if... if something where to happen and it was his fault. The room stopped moving suddenly causing Ludwig to look around and stop thinking. There were a few lights on the sides of the walls that flickered on, but not much was different.

Alfred moved towards the single door. "But, I think we found a way to win!" He opened the door which led to a wide, pure white hallway with bright lights leading all the way down past hundreds of cubicles. The place, however, was completely empty and all of the cubicles were silent. A penny could probably be heard dropping on the far opposite end.

"Whoa, where are we?" Veneciano asked, excited. "This is just like one of your movies, America!"

"Leave it to him," Ludwig mumbled. He really wasn't that impressed as his mind was still focused on other matters. He walked alongside Alfred who was quickly summarizing events that he had been filled in about as well. He only briefly explained their whereabouts, however.

"We're just in an underground secret base where my agents meet, but they're all gone, so don't worry about it too much and try not to remember it, okay?" Alfred rambled. He then effortlessly continued his explanation. Ludwig and Veneciano came to a sudden stop when Alfred turned on his heel to face them. "And now, here's our plan."

* * *

"_Not your plan again," Ben growled. He rolled his eyes. "I'll say it again, these are countries that are hundreds of years old. They can handle themselves."_

"_I'm sorry, but I fail to see the effectiveness of letting _one_ person just run freely around their lands in their weakened condition with hardly any protection at all looking for a single child," Abigail started, her voice calm. "Where do they start looking? What happens if the child finds them first? What if something outside of their country affects them? These are critical things you have to take into consideration here, Ben."_

_George stepped between them. "This is all true, but I don't think any of the countries should focus on anyone else's problems right now but theirs." He looked at Ivan and Yao. "Right now you're both at war, but you don't want to be, that much is clear. Forget the wars and all this other nonsense. Nothing can be done in any one's condition. If you go back home and try to stop it, it won't work. The people are not listening right now and your bosses are all probably in hiding to be protected."_

"Ya pannimayu_, but I don't think I need protection," Ivan said coldly._

"_Then help," Abigail said curtly. "We can all work together, it's the only way things can get done fast enough to stop this madness."_

_Ivan lowered his eyes in thought. He really was up against a wall. The agents could be useful in at least protection if guns started firing and he could put them in front of him. He truly didn't care for their safety. Plus, his government was more than likely in a solid hiding location that even Ivan wouldn't be able to find so contacting his KGB or government officials would be out of the question. He never liked the idea of being surrounded._

_Fiddling with his scarf, Ivan nodded. "Fine, I'll help…"_

"_I guess the world is ending," Alfred joked. He looked away when Ivan shot him his usual icy glare._

"_Right, well who goes to who?" Jeff asked._

"_Abigail, you go with Russia," George said._

"_What?" Abigail and Ivan exclaimed. George simply stared at them. "S-sir, I'd rather stay with Sir Kirkland."_

"_Don't sir me, missy," George snapped. "Your Russian is flawless and I see how you and Russia interact. You'll be just fine. Unless…" He looked at Ivan. "You'd rather be with dear Benjamin here."_

_Both boys stiffened and looked away angrily. George smiled, knowing the matter was settled. "Thomas, you'll be with China."_

"_YES!" Jeff jumped for joy, surprising Yao. Was he really to be with this excitable blonde?_

_As George started on Ben, Alfred cut him off. "Actually, Ben, I have a special assignment for you. I'll explain later, all right?"_

_Lee appeared from the bedroom with a relieved sigh. He quickly explained that Arthur was fine and was healing nicely. Alfred then assigned Lee to remaining by Arthur's side in case his wound becomes worse. They were to leave for England as soon as Arthur was well. By now, Ivan, Abigail, Jeff and Yao had started packing up to depart._

"_Er, Sir?" Abigail started, getting George's attention. "I don't mean to be rude…"_

"_Then don't," George replied._

_Undeterred, Abigail pressed on. "It's just… when did you become the leader of this operations? I know you're the oldest member, but Sir Jones made you retire years ago and now I'm the leader."_

"_Just let him lead, Abby," Alfred whispered. "He'll turn into a cranky granpa if you don't."_

"_This cranky granpa is telling you to get your rear in gear because Italy and Germany are on their way to the capital," George grumbled. He motioned to the radio that was barely audible on the other side of the room. The last clipped sentences from the news reporter stated that the two nations wanted to personally see for themselves this new baby America._

"_Shit, we don't have much time." Alfred turned to the agents and saluted them. "Keep to your countries, find those babies, and get back here. I'm going with George to find that kid and figure out a way to put everything right. He must know the answers to what's going on and how this mess started. Keep in contact with me and the other agents. You have your orders."

* * *

_

"We have to go back home?" Veneciano asked.

Alfred had led the two into more comfortable quarters of a cramped cubicle as he finished explaining the plans. "Yup, as soon as you can. There will be an agent waiting for each of you."

Ludwig had remained standing, his arms crossed and his usual stoic expression on his face. He listened carefully while thinking up his own plans. If there was a demonic child running around his homeland he'd definitely need the help of Gilbert and any of his other relatives loafing around the house. There's no telling what opposite form of government the people might have suddenly demanded. "But why do we have to bring them back to you, America?"

"AJ knows more things we don't," Alfred started. His eyes took on a dark blue when he spoke of the new America. "I'm going to try and get all I can out of the little bastard and figure out what he knows. Tom and those other scientists took things from me to make AJ, or so they say. Maybe whatever they took out can be put in with that same machine or something."

Ludwig put up a hand to stop Alfred. He sighed, rubbing the bridge between his nose. "This all just seems based on guesses and what ifs and is all too far-fetched to even be considered a good enough plan."

Alfred's expression saddened. "But it's all we have and we really don't have time. Matt's at war with me, this AJ kid is just letting anything happen without caring about the consequences, and you guys have to go home. If you think up a better way on your trip home, great. I'd love to know, but until then, this is all we've got."

It was silent as the countries mulled over the plan. "The last plan you came up with was to sneak on that stupid spaceship and look where that got us," Ludwig said.

Alfred smirked. "Hey, but we lived through that. We can take on a bunch of kids, can't we? I've seen you in battle."

"Hey, Germany, let's give this a chance." Veneciano looked at his friend sadly. "Maybe we won't even have to fight, you know? Maybe the children will just give up."

"Well… if it's a child of you, maybe," Ludwig said. He couldn't help but smile at the thought.

* * *

_Hoshiko2_'s cents: So, I'm sorry if this seems really rushed, but they needed to get OUT of that cabin. Haha. I don't really like how this chapter turned out, actually. I had a better idea, but I've been pressed for time lately. If I don't update some week, please know that it's because my life is extremely busy and I'm amazed I'm able to pump out two chapters a week.  
Also, I'm really sorry if a lot of this seems wordy. I assure you the speaking lines will get...less in the future.  
I'm not really confident in my writing skills of this story at the moment, so if you guys could let me know what you like and don't like? A few of you do tell me and I really appreciate that, you have no idea. And if you have any questions, come on over to my Formspring (.me/hoshiko2) if you have questions.

Thanks for reading this week's. Next week will take a different turn.


	10. Chapter 10

Before I begin, I want to apologize for not updating for a few weeks. I've had it rough with midterms and a few personal issues, but all is well now. I also had a rather rough writer's block resulting in a lack of motivation to write anything, even homework. oRZ

However, fear not! I am back with a vengeance and will return to updating weekly! I've even considered starting a THIRD series! A THIRD? HOSHIKO ARE YOU INSANE? Why yes, if you haven't noticed. Who else would write a series like this? HAHA!

* * *

The flight was long and uneventful. Still, Ludwig kept his guard up. He was now separated from Veneciano, a matter that didn't sit well in his stomach, but one he had to accept nonetheless. Before they left, Ludwig had asked for his and Veneciano's agents to escort them back to their countries, but Alfred explained the agents were already waiting for him. So instead of discussing any plans with this American agent he had never met before, he was to come up with one on his own while watching the news intensely.

Home. It was in total disarray. Ludwig had left Gilbert in charge of any affairs that might have needed his attention, but it didn't seem that Gilbert had done anything to stop them. Ludwig couldn't blame him, however. The man was never a country and was no longer his empire self, but he certainly wouldn't take things sitting down. So then, what was the matter?

As the plane crossed over the lands of Europe, Ludwig started to feel something in his heart. It started beating faster, aching almost, and making the German clutch his chest. He began to breathe faster and could feel sweat forming on his forehead. He changed the channel to a local German news station to see if there was anything that had changed from when he checked the BBC. Luckily, nothing had changed.

Whatever it was, though, he hoped it wasn't some demonic child. He hoped his brothers were safe. He knew that Gilbert certainly could fend for himself, but what of the others? They had lost their power much earlier than Gilbert, almost forgetting what it was like to be something once, long long ago. But a country never forgot that if they were ever threatened, their obligation became very real. Protection of the people, of their very core, would become their obsession until it was safe again.

The news suddenly changed. Ludwig sat forward in his chair, anxious to know if it was good news. He almost sighed in relief to see it wasn't in Germany if it wasn't for the scene before him.

"The gruesome scene you before you is of the country of Spain," the news reporter started. "The country entered the borders of Greece early this morning. The people resisted for as long as they could, but within hours, Spain had captured the capital. What you see now is Spain himself holding Greece's-"

Ludwig's hands were over his mouth to keep himself from throwing up. How could Antonio be standing there, holding Hercules' dead body in the air like that? Hercules' limp body had a rather large hole through his chest, where his heart should be. But there was no heart. Antonio threw Hercules' body down and held his bloody axe triumphantly over his head. The Spanish rejoiced with cheers and shouts of _Viva España_. Ludwig could have punched the television, but that wouldn't have accomplished anything.

It wouldn't bring Hercules back and it wouldn't change Antonio.

Alfred had said something of how Kiku and Matthew had gone with their virus so it changed how they acted. Was this what had happened to Antonio as well?

Ludwig continued to watch the news, seeing the awful scene of a country being destroyed right on worldwide television. He thought it was some kind of movie. It had to be. But there were no amazing CG affects, no theme music, and no miraculous ending. Just blood, shouting, and Ludwig's heart pounding in his ribcage.

Despite the fact that the rest of the journey was short, Ludwig felt that it had dragged on for far too long. He dashed from the plane, calling as many of his siblings as he could from his hands free phone in the car. He waved off someone transporting him, opting to drive himself so he needn't worry about speed limits or if he went onto the sidewalk a little bit. As he swerved to and fro down the mountains, not one of Ludwig's brothers picked up.

The towns were still so sleepy, unaffected by the chaos of the outside world, but Ludwig knew it was the cities he was to fear. The closer he got to Berlin, the worse he felt; that sickening _thing_ bubbling up to his throat. He gripped the wheel, urging his car to go faster before he caught his reflection in the mirror. Ludwig was surprised at how crazed he looked. Thankfully, he knew it was still his bright blue eyes and blonde hair, now messy from his rush, but to see his reflection look so worked up was quite rare.

The last time he had truly looked this frazzled was back during the wars, but even then he had kept his cool demeanor. He reached out to change the channel, perhaps to some classical music, when suddenly there was a crash from behind. Ludwig slammed on his brakes, looking in the review mirror.

There had been a car crash, one being struck in the side by the other car. Ludwig swore, knowing that he had to get home to see the true damage, but his people were hurt behind him.

He rushed from the car, calling out to the people to see if they were ok. However, he stopped when he saw the passengers and drivers climb out of the car. The two drivers were bleeding slightly from the head while the three passengers had scraps on their legs and arms. They looked over at Ludwig, their eyes empty, but their expressions hard as stone.

Ludwig's breath caught in his throat. He forced himself to speak, to see if they were okay, but those eyes continued to stare at him.

"A-are you okay?" Ludwig finally managed. The people continued to stare. Ludwig looked around to see if anyone else was going to come and check up on the people, but he realized that all the cars had stopped and all the pedestrians were intently watching the scene. No, not the scene, they were all watching _him_.

Ludwig backed away towards his car nervously. He looked at all the faces, memorizing their cold expressions and empty eyes. With a tense grunt, Ludwig moved back to his car. He took off quickly, glancing back to see the cars that had stopped where now following him. Some of the people had started walking in his direction, but they had vanished all too soon when Ludwig made his way into Berlin finally.

The city was full of people standing on the streets. They were either rallying in defiance, their banners raised high in proud anger, or they were watching Ludwig pass them by. Ludwig feared the silent ones far more. At least he could plainly see what the rioters wanted.

A beige mansion came into view. It was set just a little outside of Berlin, on the outskirts of the noise. There was a rather long driveway up, showcasing all of Ludwig's hard care he had lavished on the impressive garden; from the constantly manicured national flowers, peppering the lawn, to the trees, normally lush with life, but currently overcome by winter's chill. The raised foundation was decorated with stones all handpicked from the land surrounding the mansion.

Ludwig parked his car quickly, cutting the ignition and moved to get out of the car when he suddenly saw his albino brother standing at the driver's window. Ludwig shouted in surprise, jumping away from the door. He briefly wondered how Gilbert had appeared so quickly when before, there was no one outside a moment before.

"Hey West!" Gilbert exclaimed, all too casually. His bright blonde, almost white hair, shone in the sun like always while his red eyes stared warmly at his little brother.

Ludwig sighed in relied, then glared at Gilbert as he got out of the car. "_Bruder_, what're you doing?"

"Greeting you!" Gilbert laughed as if it were any other day. But it wasn't like any other day. "I always do when you've come home from a trip."

Ludwig started heading inside, ignoring his brother's casual attempt at conversation. Perhaps Gilbert was in too much shock to want to discuss the issues at hand. That didn't stop Ludwig, though.

"I assume you are up to date with the problems that have arisen within our borders as well as those outside?" Ludwig asked. He briskly made his way up the stairs, his boots clunking on the wooden steps. "This is no time to be making such casual conversation. Update me."

Gilbert clicked his tongue on the roof of his mouth. "Tch, always so quick to the point. Well, I guess I raised ya right. In any case, I sent everyone to the larger cities and towns to keep the riots to a minimum while I held down the fort until you got back. The High Chancellor has been taken into hiding with the rest of the government, so they're safe."

"Good." Ludwig nodded. They had entered the house by now. The German glanced around. "Where are the dogs?"

At this, Gilbert hesitated and it was that hesitation that made his brother instantly suspicious. "Oh, I let them out."

"You let them out?" Ludwig repeated questioningly.

"What's the big deal? They were getting on my nerves, all jumping up and down and barking. It was a pain in the ass."

Ludwig turned away, thinking of other matters. He'd worry about his dogs later. He remembered something and turned back to Gilbert. "Did an American woman come here looking for me?"

"What the hell for?" Gilbert asked.

"She's to help us in our current predicament," Ludwig explained. "Now did she come or not?"

"Oh, well, yeah, she came," Gilbert started. He looked down at his black boots. "But, I uh, made her go away."

Ludwig started to question his brother when he noticed something. Gilbert was staring at his boots, the same boots he always polished every evening and hated to get dirty. They were an old present he had gotten from Ludwig long ago but because of Gilbert's meticulous attention to them, they had remained virtually new. And now, they had blood on them.

Quickly, the German moved away from his brother. There was a flash of red and then Ludwig saw it. The same dullness in the eyes before Gilbert returned to normal.

He smirked confidently, putting his hands in his silver hoodie sweatshirt. "I don't think Americans can help us. I don't trust 'em, ya know? This isn't their problem."

"America sent them to help us," Ludwig started, forgetting that he was to keep America's status a secret.

Gilbert's eyes narrowed as he smiled more. "I thought little America was dead."

"He is. He sent them before we left." Ludwig was slowly making his way to the small coat closet just off of the foyer. It was there he knew was the shotgun he had always kept loaded and ready in case of an emergency. Whether he intended to use it or not was up to Gilbert, but he'd really rather not attack his own brother again.

"You're a horrible liar, West," Gilbert said slowly. He reached out to Ludwig, but the blonde was faster.

He ducked into the closet, pulling the gun out and taking aim. Gilbert, however, had moved up beside his younger brother and pushed the barrel of his sleek shiny black pistol into Ludwig's neck.

"What're you doing?" Gilbert asked quietly. "There's no need for guns."

"Then why is yours out as well, _Bruder_? And why is there blood on your shoes?"

There was a crash as the door slammed open near them. Suddenly, the three dogs Ludwig had taken in dashed in. The three dogs were growling with their tails at rapt attention and their backs hunched. Gilbert barely regarded them as he pressed his gun into Ludwig's neck more.

These three dogs were very special in that they had been taken in fifty years ago. The only way for the dogs to stay alive like him meant Ludwig had to give some of his immortal blood to the dogs. It was a difficult process and one that was only agreed upon by all the nations as an act of companionship. Under no circumstance was a country to make a mortal creature immortal, unless it was a pet. Kiku had done so with his dog, Hercules with a few of his cats, and Matthew with his bear. All of the countries had a cat as well, and Ludwig's very own had decided to appear and fling itself at Gilbert's face.

The man pulled away from Ludwig, crying out in pain, and then the dogs attacked their once beloved second master. Momentarily caught off guard, Ludwig stood back, watching as the dogs and the old German Empire wrestle on the ground, the big black fur ball of a cat hissing and clawing his way into the scene now and then.

He realized that it was his chance to escape as Gilbert was far more concerned with trying to get three enormous dogs and a black cat off of his face rather than try to stop him. Ludwig ran from the room, scanning each room for a woman, one he hoped was still alive. A gunshot and three cries of surprise stopped Ludwig. He was concerned for his pets, but he couldn't very well run back to them without running into Gilbert.

Frantic, Ludwig turned from where he stood in the kitchen, his eyes landing on the door to the basement. He remembered that there was another door that would lead him outside to the gardens. It wasn't the best idea, but the steadily approaching banging of Gilbert's boots was fast approaching gave him no other option.

Ludwig dove for the door, taking three steps at a time, before jumping down to the cement bottom. He stopped short, gasping in surprise for there on the floor was the body of a brunette woman. Her wavy hair was a mess over her face and her pale skin was a stark contrast to the blood on the floor.

"WEST!"

Ludwig spun around to see Gilbert at the top of the stairs. He thundered down, chasing the blonde until he was caught. The brothers fought, tumbling on the hard ground, before a shot rang out again. Ludwig froze, staring at the red eyes of his brother as he felt his fresh shoulder wound bleed onto his chest. Gilbert then knocked the shotgun away from Ludwig's hands.

"_Nein_…," Ludwig whispered. Gilbert's eyes were black. "Gilbert! What's happening?"

"An awakening, that's what!" Gilbert started laughing. He pushed the gun into Ludwig's wound. "The people have all called for a change again and I can't ignore them, unlike you! You who just tries to soothe everyone with nothing! All those useless government programs did nothing and you still don't understand how we truly feel!"

"We? You're not a country and you're not an empire anymore!" Ludwig shouted. He struggled, but Gilbert was stronger. How? He was never as physically strong as his younger brother. "You haven't been in charge of people for years!"

Gilbert chuckled, his usual smirk turning twisted. "But I've woken up to the conclusion of what the people want. Have wanted all along! We want change, we want wealth, and we want to be strong again!"

"Gil, listen to me! You can't do this! You don't know what you're getting into!" Ludwig pleaded. He tried to find his brother in those deep black eyes. There was no trace of his egotistical self in that shell. "This is bigger than you!"

"Nothing is bigger than the German Empire! The only reason my power was taken away was because of those _fools_ in the West. That damn America and England and that God forsaken _heathen_ Russia. I will have my revenge!"

Ludwig suddenly pulled a gun from his side, aiming it at Gilbert's temple. He felt his heart pound with the ferocity only a country defending itself could muster. "I won't let you."

Gilbert didn't even blink at seeing a gun to his head; it wasn't anything new. He didn't even care that it was his own brother aiming it. They had gone down this road before, defending what they felt was right. The indifference of his older brother made Ludwig's heart ache. This wasn't right. Gilbert should be fighting him as Prussia, not some crazed country overrun by the German people.

"I won't let you kill yourself," Ludwig growled. He pulled his gun away, but kept Gilbert down with a strong hand on his shoulder. "If you try to take on the countries as you are and as they are, there will be horrible consequences."

Gilbert's smirk widened as he narrowed his eyes haughtily. "How sentimental of you, Germany." Ludwig flinched at the formal term. Gilbert took this chance of weakness to grab the handgun and yanking it from Ludwig's grasp. He bucked his hips up into Ludwig's and then rolling sideways while punching Ludwig in the face, effectively removing the muscular blonde. "And how naïve! Didn't I teach you anything? You can't let your guard down for anything, not even your brother!"

For the third time that day, a shot rang out in Ludwig's house.

* * *

"_Mon Dieu!_" Francis gasped. He was sitting in his tastefully simple cottage living room. The television had been on all night and day despite that Francis had moved out to the country side to avoid work. He hadn't been feeling the best for the past few days and on orders from his government, he was to locate to his rural cottage a half an hour out of Paris. It was definitely a favorite of the Frenchman as he had kept it to his own personal heaven. No humans were allowed on any of the premises.

Normally Francis would spend his time outside, tending to his garden of roses in the Greenhouse and enjoying the fresh winter chill before it became too cold to go outside. Earlier the evening before, Francis had felt something was amiss in the outside world. Curious, he wanted to turn on the old fashioned television, but changed his mind as he reminded himself that he was out at the cottage to relax. However, only an hour later he received a strange phone call.

"_Turn on the television. There's something interesting happening in our world…"_

And with that they had hung up. Francis thought for a moment that it was a young boy, but couldn't be too sure. There were other voices in the background, innocent children's laughter and whispers. Without hesitation he turned on the television to see the news of America's death. It was only hours later that Greece would fall.

"Antonio!" Francis shrieked, jumping from his chair. "_Que vous pensez-vous faites-vous_?"

His mouth was open in agape, unable to fathom that one of his oldest friendly rivals had truly just killed a country. And yet, there he stood in all of his bloody glory. He had already tossed Hercules' limp body to the ground and raised the Spanish flag in victory. He then looked to the cameras recording him, a long and evil smile meeting his black eyes.

"I wave my flag in a call to the other countries to know that they don't have to be under the burden of what we have always lived under!" Antonio pointed at the cameras, starling Francis. "Join me! Join me as Italy soon will! Heed me, Europe! There will be change and when we emerge victorious, it'll all be just as he had said."

Francis stepped back, utterly lost in Antonio's words. Who was he speaking of and what had this "he" said? But more importantly, had he just declared war on Italy? Francis would not have it. He jumped for his old dial phone sitting on the wicker end table. Dialing with one eye trained on the television, Francis waited and prayed that his government officials would answer.

There was a click and, clutching the phone to his mouth, Francis started to yell into the mouthpiece. "WE CANNOT ALLOW SPAIN TO GO TO WAR WITH ITALY! GET ME A PRESS CONFERENCE TO DECLARE HIS DECLARATION OF WAR A DECLARATION OF WAR AGAINST US!"

The other end was silent, worrying Francis that he had made the poor secretary deaf from his shouts. But then there was a quiet wheezing. Francis picked up the base and moved to the other room, away from the television. Thinking he should speak again, Francis started to talk when he heard the wheezing grow louder.

"France…_coursez vous_… _ne venez…pas á Paris…_"

Then there were multiple mirthful children's laughter. A man could be heard moaning as the phone clicked off. Francis stood there in shock. He could tell that was his President and a cold fear consumed his body. Dropping the phone, he rushed to the television, but the news hadn't changed from the gruesome scene of Antonio waving his bloody flag. Francis changed the channel, but none showed if something terrible was happening in Paris. The news was only focused on three countries; Spain, America, and Japan.

Francis grabbed his jacket off the coat rack and surged for the door. He didn't care for what his boss had told him, it was his duty to protect his people and their interests. However, as soon as Francis was outside the door, he was met face to face with a woman. A rather busty woman with lush red lips.

"Oh! _Excusez-moi_!" the woman exclaimed. Francis' hands were on her rather large breasts as he had come close to barreling over her entire petite body. She had curly blonde locks in a short bob around her face and surprised green eyes. She looked rather harmless as she stood so meekly before Francis, terribly worried she had caused some great misfortune.

"No, pardon me _mademoiselle_." Francis was always one for manners, even in times of absolute desperation. "I'm afraid this is government property and you are trespassing. I'm going to have to escort you off the grounds, now come with me."

The woman hadn't put up a fight and looked awfully innocent of her crime. But Francis soon realized with dread she wasn't the only one trespassing on his private property. Two men were coming straight for him although the same look of obliviousness of crossing his lands wasn't in their expression. They had a deadly look to them as they withdrew handguns, aiming them at Francis and the woman. Francis gasped, forgetting that he was unarmed and moved to protect the harmless woman.

But the woman slipped free of his grasp, pulling a silencer pistol from her fashionable blue and white windbreaker and shooting the men quickly right between the eyes. Francis suddenly was even more scared of this seemingly harmless woman turned vigilante. Perhaps she was there to kill him and those men had been his bodyguards. Francis turned to run into the house, but the woman grabbed his shoulder, roughly turning him around.

"Relax, _Monsieur_ France. I am a secret agent sent special from America himself to protect you. My name is Elizabeth Ford and I'm to escort you to safety as quickly as possible," the woman hurriedly explained. Her green eyes were locked on Francis, no longer looking quite as sweet as before. She then produced a badge that had an official looking seal that Francis guessed was fake, but then he saw it; America's signature. Countries _never_ signed anything as a way to keep humans from forging their signature and it was only a shared act of intimacy between countries that one was to lay eyes on the others. Francis knew for a fact that he could count on one hand how many countries had seen America's signature, he was just lucky enough to be one of them.

"All right, _Mlle_ Elizabeth…"

But Elizabeth had cut the nation off with a wave of her hand. "Elizabeth is too English. Please, I'm Betty." And with that came a warm smile accentuated by her lips. Francis couldn't help but watch those lips when she talked. He didn't even notice as Betty took his arm with hers. "Now if you'll please come with me _monsieur_."

"Wait," Francis removed his arm, backing away. "I believe that you are an agent of _Amérique_, but where ever you think you're taking me, you're not."

"I'm not?" Betty repeated, confused. She didn't look nearly as harmless when her eyes were so clear, despite the fact a loaded silent pistol was in her hand hanging by her side.

"_Oui_, you are taking me to Paris and then to Italy." Francis looked in the general direction of where he knew Italy was, fearful of the twins' condition. "I have to check up on those boys. I can't let Spain get his filthy hands on them."

"I'm afraid I can't do that," Betty said. She put her gun away and nodded to the driveway where Francis' car was parked. "I have to get you back to America where America will keep you protected."

"_Amérique_ is dead, _mademoiselle_," Francis said sadly. He lowered his eyes in guilt, dismayed he had to break the news to the woman.

"_Non_," Betty said with a confident smile. "He is alive. He wants me to help you capture your demon child and bring him back to America with us, but I've deemed Paris a hot zone and we can't enter it."

Francis was still stuck on the idea that Alfred might very well be alive and his hope grew. He couldn't imagine his longtime friend and ally had been truly defeated by some child with a disgusting copycat complex. Still, he remained stubborn to be told that he couldn't do as he wanted.

"I have to go to Italy. _Amérique_ can wait. There is nothing that will keep me from my duty, not even a beautiful woman such as yourself." Francis was always looked down upon for his retreats in history and wasn't taken seriously among most people, but there were times he was extremely strong. Betty had to take a step back in surprise at how stern the gentleman had become.

She hesitated, biting her lip (why would she do that to poor Francis?) before saying slowly, "You currently have fifteen demonic children roaming Paris looking for you… "

* * *

_Hoshiko2_'s cents: Yup, 15! Now I don't know France very well compared to English, American, Russian, or Asian history and culture, so please excuse any mistakes. As for the French, my sister helped correct any mistakes, but if it's a little off, please alert me (so then I can snicker at her for not getting it right, I mean correct it).

France shouted, "Antonio! What in the world do you think you're doing?" and France's boss said, "France, run, don't come to Paris."

Oh! And I hope you all enjoyed the inclusion of the pets. I'm horribly in love with the Hetalia cats and I was looking for the perfect way to smuggle in at least one instance of their existence. Why not have them attack Gil? XD As for where Gilbird and Prussiacat is, well…they just weren't there. Haha, no, they'll show up soon. :3

And with that, I'm off! Update will come next week so I hope you look forward to it!


	11. Chapter 11

Francis ran down into the alleyway, pressing himself again the wall. The police car drove by without stopping which allowed the Frenchman to sigh in relief. He glanced around to see if anyone else was down the tight enclosure as well, but he was alone. He knew he wasn't being followed and, so far, no one had spotted him, but that didn't make him any less nervous. Just a few more blocks and he'd reach his office.

"Nice try, _Monsieur_ France."

After a horrible argument with Agent Betty, Francis had snuck off to Paris by means of borrowing a farmer's truck. He had hoped that the American didn't was like a lost tourist and wouldn't know how to get back to Paris any time soon. However, her curvy figure had stepped before him in the quiet alleyway, halting any of his advancements.

"Ah, _Mlle_ Betty." Francis swept his long blonde locks back as he flashed her his faultless smile. "I was quite worried about you. You seemed so upset when we last parted ways."

Betty sauntered up to Francis, making sure her hips, long luxurious locks, and luscious lips were in plain sight. He couldn't run away, even when she pointed her silencer at him. She tilted his chin up with the tip of her gun as her smirk widened.

"_Oui_, I believe it's because I told you not to come to Paris," Betty said. "Do you know how dangerous it is to have you here right now?"

"I am not afraid," Francis lied. Of course he was afraid. While running away he had seen numerous riots in the streets, people holding black flags and painting red A's against commercialist and government buildings. It was extremely unsettling in the nation's stomach.

However, he was most concerned about those that had just stood and stared at nothing. They didn't seem to even acknowledge the rioters or the police or even, Francis feared, their own existence. But when Francis seemed to get close enough, they would stare at him with vacant eyes. It was terrifying. He had never seen his people look so lifeless before. And worse, the news hadn't said anything about this happening in any other country and no one in the other rioting countries such as Spain or America looked this way, so was it his own people?

"I am a country. I have faced many situations such as this before." Francis tried to smile, but gulped as Betty pushed her gun deeper into his windpipe.

"I don't take lies very well, _Monsieur_ France. You may have had many revolts in the past, but you went with all of those and just changed how you were," Betty said. "You were never the one hunted. We must take this slowly without you running off."

Francis laughed casually, holding his hands up. "Come, come, _Madame_. There is no need for all of this. We are here now, _non_? Why not just stay and help me find these children? You are the expert. Besides, we shouldn't return to _Amérique_ empty-handed."

At this, Betty seemed to consider his offer. She clicked her tongue against her teeth and pulled the gun back. Francis sighed as he saw it stick it away in her clothes, wondering just where it sat on her body. He ran a hand through his hair to distract himself of anything improper as right now really wasn't the time. Then again, he _was_ France.

"Are there side entrances only you know about?" Betty asked.

Francis smiled. "_Oui_, but I'm sure those children know it by now too. My government officials probably squealed already or are dead."

Betty was surprised at how casually Francis had talked about his possibly dead government heads. "Surely you're concerned for your bosses' well beings."

There was a hesitation from Francis that worried Betty. Was he worried? As a country, of course he felt fear over any of his people's well being and since he had personally worked so close with the government it was natural he would be worried. However, he was used to seeing humans come and go, especially those in his politics. He had come to this conclusion when he saw his most beloved humans killed in wars or when they were burned at the stake for hearing voices from God.

"_Monsieur_ France?" Betty's voice snapped Francis out of his mind and away from the woman's screams he hated to hear.

"Forgive me. I'm worried, but I'm used to people dying." Francis sighed with wear of an immortal. "If I were to be sad over one person be dead, I'd cry for my entire life."

"I understand that, but these weren't just some random people. They were your bosses."

"Ah, but at one time they were just some 'random people' as you say. They are not any different from you or the next person that walks by. Just because they have a title and say fancy words doesn't mean they are not just like any of my other citizens."

Betty was silent for a few moments, the distant roar of a riot echoing between the cramped houses. She then smiled again. "Spoken like a real country."

"Of course!" Francis flipped his hair and smiled as well. "I have been at this for a very very long time, _mon cher_."

Working to hide her blush, Betty turned to look down the alley way. "Enough talk. We need to get you off of the streets. I am only here to offer protection, so please, lead the way."

Francis stood up straighter, suddenly feeling rather confident. With his chest out and his head focused, he started out of the alley way. He could hear Betty keeping on his heels, no doubt with her hand ready for her gun. The streets around the Palais Bourbon were surrounded by riots with the rest of the city's population just standing on the corners and watching. Francis motioned at the sewer hole cover to Betty who quickly pulled the cover off, revealing a pit leading to darkness.

Betty climbed down the ladder without hesitation, Francis following shortly after. At the bottom, Betty had turned on a flashlight that she whipped out of her windbreaker. She held her gun slightly above the light as she moved back and forth to check the area. Francis landed in the water with a sigh, fixing his hair. When Betty declared the area secure, Francis took off down the sewers, Betty on his heels.

The sewer system under Paris had been modernized to make way for the subways and all the modernizing needs above, however the area around the Palais Bourbon had been unchanged. They had remained the same for Francis' benefit. The winding mazes were enough to confuse any human to wander for days with no way out; an effectively quick way to stop invaders. However, Francis had known of the pathway since he was young. His instincts edged him forward, around corners, and down alleyways that looked like hopeless dead ends. But Francis knew better.

It wasn't long before they had found their way to another ladder that looked incredibly like the countless others Francis and Betty had passed by.

"How is this one any different than the others?" Betty whispered. She still had her guard up and was constantly checking the perimeter.

Francis smirked and pointed to a tiny engraved symbol of a Fleur de lis. "This. All the ladders have different engravings to tell me which one leads to which section of the building. I know that this leads right to my office."

Betty smiled knowingly. "I'll go first, _monsieur_."

Francis stepped aside, allowing Betty to ascent the ladder first, her gun and flashlight still in her hands. There was a moment of silence before Betty called down to Francis to come up.

The office wasn't nearly as decorated as Francis' cottage out in the countryside. It was kept to a sophisticated design with muted blues and deep reds. The Fleur de lis was lightly sewn into the chair's fabrics and the draperies. Betty noticed all the photos from the past decades that ranged from political moments, important standstills in history, and then a few notary historical figures. As she moved to his desk, the photos changed. They were more personal with the countries themselves standing beside Francis, merry expressions on their faces. Betty was slightly touched as she saw her own country sitting back with a Coke and a sandwich in one hand laughing with Matthew next to him, a Pepsi in his own hand. Next to that was an old painting of what looked like a very young Arthur sitting on a teenaged Francis.

"Even back then, England was sour?" Betty asked, nodding at the painting.

Francis was near a bookshelf, but knew exactly which painting she was referring to. He chuckled. "_Oui_, but in the olden days, you didn't smile unless you wanted to smile for hours. He just looks that way because it was past his nap time."

Betty giggled slightly. "You sound like a parent or something."

Francis turned to Betty, crossing his arms. He couldn't help but feel warmth spread through him at being called a parental figure again, even though he preferred to be a big brother instead. "Well I've been around a long time. The big brother in me just came naturally. I did, after all, help raise _Amérique_ and _Mathieu_."

"So I take it you still see them as little boys?" Betty moved to glance out the window. The rioters were as rowdy as ever and yet, surprisingly, little sound made its way into the office.

"Of course. I will always see them as two children, one pesky, and one sweet." Francis' heart came to a still when he thought of Matthew. The blonde he had always known and loved didn't seem so sweet anymore. He had been the one to declare war on his older brother, rallying for more Anarchy and marching down to the borders with a gun in his hand. Matthew may be sweet, but he was formidable.

"_Mlle_ Betty…? Can you tell me what happened to _Mathieu_?" Francis quietly asked.

Betty glanced over at Francis before returning her attention to the window. "I wasn't present when he fell to Anarchy, but I've heard reports. He yelled at America and attacked him, then was last seen running into the forest after injuring England."

Francis' mouth fell open. "_Non mon cher_, you must be mistaken. Hurt Alfred, _oui_, but not Arthur. He would never…"

A loud thump outside silencing Francis as Betty was in front of him, her hand over his mouth. Francis couldn't help but notice she was wearing very subtle perfume. Betty then crept to the large oak doors, her gun pressed against her and her expression focused. The pregnant silence was suddenly broken when the doors burst open.

Betty had been thrown off balance, but rolled up with her gun at the ready. Francis reached for his gun too when he saw a little girl rush into the room. She was crying and had blood rivulets trickling through her golden locks and down her pale face. Her blue eyes looked remarkable like Francis' own.

A child nation! Francis thought in alarm. There was mistaking that signature feeling one gets when in the presence of one. It was as if a thousand voices surrounded the country making an invisible shield around them that could push through, breaking others if strong enough or bend to the will of others. This girl's own shield was cracked and broken, the voices falling to the floor in a shattered heap.

She slammed the doors closed with panicked and desperate motions. Her eyes spoke volumes when she looked at Francis; she was under attack. Francis knew the girl knew who Francis was instantly, but she chose not to act on the situation.

"RUN!" the girl shrieked in a French accent Francis immediately placed in the southern region. The girl rushed to the window, ignoring Betty, and moving to the same hole hidden under the elegant red rug that Francis and Betty had come from.

Betty moved to go after her when Francis grabbed her around her waist. She put up a protest, but then Francis had her down under him. The door practically exploded off of its hinges, pieces of large shards coming from the oak like shrapnel and nailing the girl in her head. She fell, the voices vanishing instantly. She was dead and with it, so were the ideals and hopes people had of her.

Francis was amazed. She was so weak to have been killed by such a mortal fatal wound. A real country would only brush the blow off and keep running. The humans must not have had such a strong value in her if they gave up on her so easily.

At the door stood the stronger country. He had brown wavy hair that was covered in soot and dried blood. His eyes were a wild black. He wasn't carrying any weapons and yet his hands were as bloody as his mouth was. Francis scrambled back in complete fear and shock that a child no older than what looked to be four years old was standing in the doorway with such a strong force that rivaled his own.

If that girl was a country than what did that make this boy that looked even younger than the girl had been?

The boy looked directly at Francis, sneering. "I finally found you _République française__._"

Francis scrambled up, but Betty jumped before him. She was now holding two guns. "You! Stand down!"

The boy laughed before spitting some blood at Betty's feet. "What is this? An American? Why is _she_ here?"

"Shut up or I will have to use force," Betty started, coming closer to the boy.

"Your force will do no harm to me…" The boy sounded bored as he watched Betty with disinterest. He ran his hand through his hair, an eerie reflection of Francis' own movement. "Stand away from me, human, or else I will harm _you_."

Francis pulled on Betty's arm in an attempt to make her move away. She merely brushed him off and continued to bark at the boy. Francis looked back at the now dead little girl. He didn't want this woman in the prime of her life to die as well.

"Agent Betty, stand down," Francis ordered. He stepped before the brunette and looked down at the little boy. "You… You're one of the fifteen aren't you?"

"Fifteen?" The boy seemed to be feigning ignorance for a moment as he tapped a finger on his chin. His eyes then lit up in mock enlightenment. "Oh yes, _those_ fifteen! _Oui_, I _was_ one of the fifteen."

"Was?" Francis repeated warily. "You're still alive."

The boy's smirk widened as his eyes flashed red. "_Oui_, and I'm the only one left…"

"T-The only one left?" Francis exclaimed. He looked at the blood on the boy's hands and around his mouth. "What…did you do to the rest?"

The boy looked at his hands, flicking some dried blood out from under his fingernails. He then licked his lips as if he were a dog, satisfied with his last meal. But then he looked at Francis and licked his lips again, this time in a hungry manner, ready to pounce on his next morsel.

"I ate them."

* * *

_Hoshiko2_'s cents:Short chapter is short...  
Ugh, I hope your France fans are happy. France isn't one of my favorite character or country. (SORRY TO FRENCH PEOPLE! I HAVE FRENCH FRIENDS AND LOVE THEM IT'S JUST the history and such… oRZ) Thanks to this chapter, I went around and looked up a lot of information about Paris and the last few governmental orders of France. It was…enlightening I guess?

By the way, I went back and fixed up a few grammatical errors in past chapters. So sorry about that. Haha.

Also, a quick shout out to my constant reviewer: PokkiChoco and her sister! You two are awesome and I love reading your weekly reviews. You two should come bother me on my Formspring. *HINT HINT!* XD

I hope you enjoyed this week and please stop by again for next week's!


	12. Chapter 12

It was snowing like always. Something Ivan was grateful for, for once. It meant that some things didn't change and maybe there was still some stability in the world. However, Ivan knew that was false as too many of his nightclubs and streets were too quiet and empty. The snow looked almost untouched by his citizens' shoes this early in the evening. Everything felt wrong, aside from the snow; the ever constant reminder of Russia's circumstance in the winter.

Ivan looked over to his American partner, surveying the area, and rolled his eyes. Of all the agents he had to get stuck with. He would have preferred Lee since he seemed to know spells that could prove to be quite useful. Still, he would have to make do with the bickering blonde.

He strode off through the snow and straight for the Kremlin. Abigail worked to keep up with his long strides while looking around at the stores boarded up with signs saying, "WE ARE REBEL FREE! WE LOVE RUSSIA!" Abigail's blood chilled at the prospect of the Russian rebels and what they were capable of if the American rebels were anything to go off of. However, there had been limited news of what was happening inside the country so Abigail had no idea if there was possibly a child nation such as AJ.

Ivan knew.

The signs proved as much. Why else would his people be putting them up if they weren't divided? And why else was his blood boiling in rage and discomfort? Yes, there was certainly a child nation terrorizing his country, but to what extent? With the lack of people wandering around on the streets, it made it incredibly difficult for Ivan to search for rebels or children. And worse, he wasn't able to get in contact with his KGB or government officials, though he knew that the entire government had probably gone into hiding. If there was one thing Ivan knew his people were good at, it was rebelling. They topped even Francis and all of his riots through-out the years.

As the duo entered the Red Square, Ivan looked around, expecting to see some sort of security in the high level danger zone such as the Kremlin. He was surprised not to see a single sniper or even a police man patrolling the perimeter. All of the lights were off, casting the entire area into almost complete darkness. The only light came from a few lone street lamps down the street, but all lights were shut off just short of the Red Square.

Abigail, confident that there was no one around, whispered into the silence to Ivan. Her breath created a fog before her mouth. "Sir, are we looking for a secret passage into the Kremlin?"

"_Da_," Ivan replied with an equally hushed whisper. He stopped near a seemingly random spot in the square, glancing around for a few tense moments, Abigail looking as well. Counting in his head, Ivan took a few steps before squatting on the ground. He pulled up one of the stones with his fingers in a tiny notch just barely big enough for his pinky finger.

"A secret passage in the _middle_ of the square?" Abigail crossed her arms with an eyebrow raised. "That's not very secretive."

"But what does it matter to find the entrance if you can't make your way around?" Ivan asked her, flashing a cold smile her way. He quickly made his way down the ladder knowing Abigail would follow.

Soon, the two were at the bottom with even more darkness closing in on them from all sides. Abigail moved to turn on a flashlight, but Ivan stopped her. He took off in the dark, smiling to himself to hear Abigail stumble after him. He figured Alfred would be upset if he came back with the agent, so he reached out and took hold of her jacket's sleeve, dragging her along.

"I think this is kind of a rule of thumb with countries to have secret passages in dank, dark places," Abigail mumbled in English. Ivan turned to look at her.

"Rule of thumb?" Ivan asked. "I'm unfamiliar with that American term."

"It's not American. "Abigail said, returning to Russian flawlessly. "It's just an English phrase. It means like an unwritten rule everyone follows."

"And you think all of the countries have secret passages?" Ivan asked, turning sharply around a corner. Abigail felt herself being whiplashed like a doll with Ivan. "That's interesting… I didn't think America needed one."

"There's one like this in America too. It stretches underneath all three of the national monuments. That's where our base is. I bet George and Sir Jones are there now," Abigail explained.

He cocked an eyebrow, still making his way through the passageway. "Are you sure you should be sharing such information with me?"

"Of course. Sir Jones wanted me to tell you, actually." Abigail stated matter-of-factly. "He said it might come in handy if this keeps up and we need a place to all meet. I assure you, only nations and those in the agency know of this place. And even among the nations, Sir Bonnefoy and Sir Kirkland are the only ones to know."

Ivan was unimpressed. He knew that the more nations and people that knew, the higher chance there was there had been a leak in the system. Despite the fact that some of the higher-up politicians knew of the passage the two were in didn't mean they knew how to navigate in the underground labyrinth.

"Awfully trusting, aren't we?" Ivan asked with a roll of his eyes. Figures, with Alfred, he thought.

Abigail started to say something, but she slammed into the back of Ivan when he stopped abruptly. There wasn't any ladder or door but rather an unmarked wall. Ivan pressed himself against it, slowly opening the door disguised as a wall. Abigail waited until Ivan motioned for her to go inside first.

With her gun drawn, Abigail quickly scanned the area of where they had arrived inside the Kremlin. It was just an ordinary corridor, one that probably hundreds of politicians walked through daily without notice of the unassuming wall. Abigail nodded to Ivan who came through the opening and promptly shutting the door. The nation took off down the hallway, Abigail on his heels.

The entire building was quiet despite the lowly lit rooms. There didn't seem be any signs of struggle or if the people had rushed out. There wasn't even the smell of smoke of documents being burned or shredded papers in trashcans. Abigail was amazed. It just looked as if the entire Russian government was on vacation.

"Sir," Abigail began, her voice sounding far too loud in the empty room. "How do you know the child will be here?"

"I'm not expecting it to be there. What I'm looking for is information," Ivan replied. He headed upstairs knowing that he was making a beeline to his office.

"What about?"

"Anything. All information regarding my people, the government, happenings; everything lies within my office. If that thing's been spotted, there will be a report on it there." Ivan stopped when he had reached his office. The large doors had his name on a decorative plaque outside. He pushed past the doors, hoping that the child would be sitting in his chair. A perfect target for him to jump on.

Nothing looked disturbed; Ivan's hundreds of leather-bound books still in place, papers semi-scatter on his wooden desk. Various pictures of battles and landscapes hang on the walls, along with the occasional weapon. He was disappointed that the child wasn't in sight and moved to his computer in hopes there would be messages or reports. Abigail closed the doors, scouring the room and silently hoping that the child was really just hiding in plain sight. Confident that there was no danger, she stood by the door with her gun still drawn.

Watching Ivan, Abigail felt a small smile. "You know, you talk of how trusting Sir Jones is as if it's a bad thing, and yet you just opened yourself to me with your trust as well."

"That was because I had no choice," Ivan replied, not looking up. "You _have_ to come along with me."

Abigail shrugged. "You could have left me to wander that labyrinth back there, but you grabbed on to me."

Sighing, Ivan turned his computer off. There wasn't a hint of a message and the device hadn't been touched since he had left. "_Da_ because if I came back to America without you, there'd be such a hassle and I don't have time for pointless things like that."

Ivan moved to check his desk and all of its contents then. Still, Abigail wasn't convinced. She moved over to check as well. "You say that, but I don't believe you."

"And why is that Miss…Woods was it?" Ivan tried to keep his happy tone in place despite the growing irritation he felt crawling up his neck. This American was full of questions.

"Because you protected Sir Jones," Abigail replied simply causing Ivan to stop. "I know that you nations have set feelings that you can't ignore- those of your people. It grows stronger when you're around your people, but I also know that you nations have you own feelings...and it's mainly affection for the other nations that you chose to feel regardless of the political situation at home."

"America…," Ivan started, but then a growl emerged. "He is nothing more than a means to an end..." He spun around to face Abigail, his eyes having that slight glow. "MY end. If he went down now...well you've seen what has happened. I was trying to prevent that to keep MY people from being drug down because of HIS problems. It has NOTHING to do with 'trust' or 'affection' or any other sunshine and rainbow phrases out of your self-help book."

"I'm sure that's really what you feel..." Abigail flashed a condescending smirk the Russian's way. He grabbed her by her shoulders, forcing the blonde to look him in the eyes.

"_Exactly_ how I feel."

Abigail wasn't affected by Ivan's cold stares and chilling tone. "So tell me, then. If you wanted him to fall...why exactly did you hold him so protectively when Tom came to get you?"

Ivan gritted his teeth. She was going to harass him the entire way wasn't she? Releasing her, Ivan moved to his book shelves. "Don't you have any other more pressing concerns? Surely harassing me is the least of your worries."

Abigail made a mocking noise as if she was thinking. Ivan clenched his jaw. "Mmm, not really... I mean, things seem to be going pretty smoothly because of all the tight restrictions in place and everyone's on edge around here, probably accounting for your foul mood; well fouler than normal. And it was far too easy to enter here, even with your clearance, so it seems the government has fled. Plus with all the signs on the stores and the furtive stares everyone gave one another shows that not only does everyone suspect one another, but that what's left of the government here has been placed on the ultimate edge as they search for the rebel groups. Besides, I figured it was much too quiet here and we needed some conversation to pass the time."

"Then I guess I should feel _gratitude_ that I was _blessed_ with the most _talkative_ of the bunch," Ivan said, spitting each word out.

Abigail laughed, her smile looking far too much like Alfred's own. "Me? Oh no. Jeff is the worst. Jeff and Sir Jones are too similar. It's a bit eerie at times."

Ivan was about to turn and smack the woman across the face, hoping to shut her incessant talking up, when he found something was amiss. A photo of him and his sisters from when they were younger was turned away. He snatched it, wondering just who had touched one of his personal belongings when he saw there was a note attached to the front.

It was written in crude Cyrillic jumping from cursive to regular as well as multiple mistakes, scribbles in the margins, and a crude drawing of Ivan with X-ed out eyes; just of that of a child's. Ivan felt his heart jump knowing that his suspicions of a child existing being confirmed, but then his body went cold as he started reading the letter.

_~Dear big brother, Ivan,_

_This is your new little sister, Catherine. I'm here to tell you that you need to die. It'll be much easier this way if you just point the gun at yourself. I'm too young to get my hands bloody, don't you think? If you really think you can do anything, you're dumber than I was told. So please, don't even try looking for me._

_Lovely weather isn't it? I'm staying nice and warm with the people that love me, unlike you. _

_Oh and you should get rid of this stupid picture. It's really old and ugly._

_Catherine~_

Ivan felt himself shaking as he reread the letter a few more times before he shoved the letter in Abigail's face. He then paced back and forth, thinking of just where he could go now? The underground markets? The bars and nightclubs? The mafia? But he knew those would be the places that would support this _Catherine_ child-oh she had to pick _that_ name of all names.

"She has your President," Abigail said quickly. "It says here she's with people that love her, but I bet that's a lie. She's probably holding them hostage."

"So what do you propose we do, oh number 1 agent?" Ivan asked, shakily.

This time, Abigail didn't make a mocking noise of thinking. She really was thinking hard as she too began to pace. "With that note, it's possible she's still in the city. If not, then St. Petersburg would be the next best choice. However, this city is more liberal and would have the strongest support for her."

"So?" Ivan asked agitated. "Is this the best you can do, _American_?"

Abigail turned to start an argument when there was a loud gunshot from behind her. She collapsed on the floor, blood coming from her chest. Ivan looked up in surprise to see a little girl with sandy blonde hair, much like his, and black eyes. She wore a thick purple nightgown with a fur collar covered by a lavender scarf. She looked quite adorable and harmless with the matching light purple fur hat atop her head. However, the smoking pistol in her hand and the malicious grin on her face said otherwise.

Without a moment's hesitation, Ivan shot the girl between the black eyes with Abigail's gun that she had dropped when she had fallen. The little girl fell backwards with a loud THUMP. Ivan looked to the blonde lying on the floor and knelt next to her.

"You Americans… Can't you do anything right?" he mumbled. He started to turn her over when the woman started to scramble up. Ivan pushed her back down. "Don't move you idiot. You could bleed to death."

"Don't," Abigail croaked out. She touched the blood and held up her fingers. "Smell. It's fake."

Sure enough, Ivan found that he had been tricked. Exactly as the agent had planned. He couldn't help but smile as he helped her up. She waved off her look of pain as one of shock. It always hurt to be shot at despite her Kevlar. She sat up clutching her side and pulled off the now-empty blood vials out from inside her coat and Ivan could see that there were others.

"And when were you going to share this little bit of information with me?" Ivan growled.

Abigail blushed slightly, not looking at Ivan. "I didn't think I'd get hit… I never have before."

There was a loud gasp as Catherine shot up. The blood dried up on her face as the bullet wound closed. She rushed towards Abigail, her hands up and ready to choke the human. Suddenly, the little girl was hit across the room by a metal water pipe to the head. She slammed into the bookcases and crumpled on the floor. Abigail stood up in shock, looking at Ivan, slightly touched at his protection.

But he could care less about Abigail. Instead, he rushed to finish the little girl off. How dare she challenge the Great Russian Federation on his home turf and in his office, no less? He picked the girl up by her collar and struck her a few times in the face with his pipe. A little bit of blood splattered across his face and a sadistic smile crept to his lips.

Ah, somehow, he had truly missed this.

Suddenly, the little girl cried out and shot her hands out. "Stop! Please!"

Ivan, actually, found himself stopping. Catherine's shaky hands grabbed on to Ivan's pipe, her black eyes pleading with him to let her live. Ivan felt that it was all wrong, so wrong that he could punch himself for hesitating, but somehow those eyes no longer looked black. They looked young and innocent and oh so painfully familiar.

Ivan let up on Catherine and whispered, "Ana…stasia…?"

Catherine smiled as she was released from Ivan. He dropped the bloody pipe, shaking at what he had just done to his beloved princess. Abigail stood from behind and watched, confused as to what Ivan was doing and why Catherine was getting back up.

"Sir…?"

Ivan shuddered as he heard Abigail's voice, remembering that Anastasia was dead. Ivan had been there when she had been shot. He had seen her body, mangled and bullet-riddled. And yet, here she was, sitting before him.

Catherine wiped her tears and blood away. "That hurt…"

Abigail reacted quickly, pulling another gun from her coat seamlessly and aiming it at Catherine's head. "Shut up. Don't say another word to him."

The little girl looked at Abigail meekly and stifled a sound of fear. She scrambled close to Ivan, clutching at his coat. "She scares me… Do something…"

Ivan tried to blink back his swirling memories, but so many voices had flooded his mind. He looked from Abigail to Catherine and couldn't see the difference. He then saw a little girl surrounded by sunflowers, laughing and calling Ivan's human name. A gunshot and then the girl was latching herself to another girl's neck. The two struggled violently, calling out Ivan's name. But the sunflowers were shinning so bright and looked so promising, he looked away as the little girl and that other girl tumbled out of a window.

Wait, a window?

Ivan snapped out of his daydream, blinking back sunshine and warmth to find the window broken and the cold snow blowing into the room. Catherine and Abigail were nowhere to be seen. He rushed to the window to find Abigail standing over a limp body of a little blonde girl. The snow had broken their fall and since the office wasn't too high up in the Kremlin so it seemed the agent was okay.

"Are you back to normal now?" Abigail yelled, her hands akimbo.

"That…that was all real?" Ivan asked, more to himself than to Abigail.

"I can't hear you, but you were controlled! So have you snapped out of it?"

Ivan sneered at the agent, but jumped out the window. He landed with a much harder landing, but his knees could take it. Abigail seized the nation up and nodded to see that he was really was back in control of himself.

"I'm not sure what that was all about, but I've never heard of a country being controlled by another," Abigail said.

"That's because we can't," Ivan mumbled. He ran a hand through his hair as he felt himself loosing focus because of the pure fear coursing through him. "No one's ever done something like that to me…"

"Well you better make sure it doesn't happen again," Abigail started, but then her eyes lit up. "Or maybe do it to her. We can control her all the way back to America."

Ivan shook his head, regretting the action immediately. His head was filling up with more and more memories, making his head feel heavier by the minute. "_Nyet_, I…I don't know how to do that."

"Damn," Abigail hissed. She grabbed Catherine roughly by her collar and tucked her under her arm. "Well, we should get going before she…"

Abigail faded out as she saw a van careening towards her and Ivan. She stepped in front of Ivan, tossing Catherine roughly to the ground, and drew her gun. The van skidded to a halt, the snow flying before it in a graceful arch. But Abigail could've cared less about the beautiful view. She paid more attention to the group of highly armed men filling out of the van and heading towards her and her Russian partner.

"Sir Braginsky, I hope you get a hold of yourself right now," Abigail started. She pulled a third gun from her jacket, her first gun still up in Ivan's office and the second in the snow by her feet. "You have some really unhappy citizens."

Ivan looked over with a snarl. He was not in the mood to deal with his anarchistic Russians, but his anger was ebbed momentarily when he stood up in shock. Suddenly, a rush of even more overwhelming rage took over his body. "_Nyet_... These are people from Chechnya… These are worse…"

* * *

_Hoshiko2_'s cents:If you go on Yahoo news, you'll see that Russians protested Putin the other day. Kinda backs up what I just wrote about...

I hope everyone had a wonderful Halloween. I now have some sad news for you all. I'm going to be taking a break for awhile on my writing. I wanted to update this week to let you guys know, but I have a lot of issues in my life right now and certain reasons have led me to feel strongly about my decision. I know you guys love the weekly updates and I do too (gives me a deadline), but I just can't keep to it with both of my stories with all of the stress going on in my life. I'll update this week and next week for _Downfall _as it'd be the last chapter and I don't want people waiting forever for one chapter, but this series will be on hold.

I'm really sorry, but my best estimate would be either Thanksgiving or Christmas. Why? Because that's the only time I won't have so much work piling on top of me that I have to actually book free time weeks in advance. It's just sad… You're all welcome to bother me on my Formspring, though. With that said, see you guys when I see you!


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